


Message Sent

by claimedbydaryl



Series: all forms of communication [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, American!Suga, Attempt at Humor, Aussie!Daichi, Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Online Relationship, Skype, Slow Burn, a lot of america vs australia discourse, almost a texting au but with tumblr, daichi is a good bf, gratuitous references to naruto and pop culture, lol only rated m for the epilogue, spoiler alert: cute boys engage in sappy romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:30:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 82,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8160638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claimedbydaryl/pseuds/claimedbydaryl
Summary: How Daichi sends the wrong message to the right person.





	1. Jesus, Is That You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic mostly inspired by [mine](http://diggitydamnsebastianstan.tumblr.com/) and [lauren's](http://2012meme.tumblr.com/) online relationship (with the constant jokes and needling and time zone difference but not the romance unfortunately), wherein we are daisuga. oh happy days.
> 
> //also ignore how like everyone are friends and japanese and are in volleyball teams whilst respectively living in both america/australia. and thanks to lauren this is my first beta'd fic!!! ten points to her again.

Suga blinked, alerted to the distinct sound of the Tumblr messenger. He leaned closer to the screen, squinting at the unfamiliar URL, before throwing caution to the wind and clicking on his inbox.

**thighmaster1: is dis u?**

Attached to the question was a linked picture of a benevolent Jesus.

Suga blinked again, his brow creasing in delicate confusion. He shifted in the soft, rumpled comforter of his bed, staring at the open messenger. After a moment his mouth twisted into a wry curve, bewilderment fading, replaced with a good-natured interest.

Although, the split-second before his fingers reached for the keyboard, Suga received the unsightly chipper notification of another message.

**thighmaster1: OMG!!!!!! I AM SOSOSOS SORRY!!!**

**thighmaster1: I MEAnT TO SEND THaaT TO MY FRIEND HOLY Y SHIT**

A cupped hand over his mouth, Suga’s laughter was muffled behind his closed fingers. Driven by harmless curiosity, or maybe it was the sleepy haze of the morning, he began to type a reply. Maybe he had been lulled into a comfortable state of self-confidence as the crickets buzzed outside his window in the heady air of Virginian summer. Or maybe it was the allure of impersonal conversation between faceless, if polite, strangers online.

Suga had spoken to people before, in sudden bursts of short-lived conversation, their shared interest in maintaining a virtual link waning after their obvious shared interests had been acknowledged. Long-distance relationships were easy to initiate, but difficult to preserve, and even harder to defend as an important friendship. However, Suga believed in seizing each moment, each chance he was presented, and it would be criminal to ignore this one.

_sweetsuga: So do you know Jesus personally then?_

A few minutes of time lapsed, and Suga worried that his joke had fallen flat, or missed the mark entirely. His finger rested over his touch pad on his Mac, motionless with indecision, cursor hovering over thighmaster1’s URL.

A heartbeat—that was the limit of time he allowed himself.

Instead of visiting the other blog, Suga stretched his legs outwards in his twisted mass of bedsheets, socked feet sliding against cotton as he leaned forward to curl his grip around the mug waiting at his side table. The tea was fragrant, sharp with the smell of peppermint, a source of warmth and comfort slipping down his throat. Suga breathed deeply.

His phone buzzed, chiming to the familiar _ping_ of a text. Glad for the distraction, Suga wasn’t surprised to see Oikawa had been the one to text him, and with the same preppy yet infuriating cheerfulness he did during every exchange—verbal or otherwise.

Suga smiled again, now amused by Oikawa’s blatant need to voice his complaint to someone other than Iwaizumi that he was paying more attention to the Xbox than him. He told Oikawa to be patient, with another thinly-veiled innuendo to use his long, elegant hands for more than typing discrepancies, and he was met with a long ten minutes of radio silence before receiving a snapchat.

Suga laughed aloud this time. It was a picture of Oikawa, seated firmly in Iwaizumi’s lap, grinning with a self-satisfied arrogance as two fingers formed a peace sign, Iwaizumi mouthing at his neck. Suga noticed the angered glean of Iwaizumi’s gaze, most probably caused by the impertinence of Oikawa’s pandering snapchat, but his broad arm seemed to have remained steadfast around Oikawa’s waist. In the next few minutes, Suga’s phone remained silent, so he assumed Iwaizumi’s arousal was more pressing than his irritation, and that he hadn’t subsequently shoved Oikawa away in punishment.

The day lengthened, heady and bright, and Suga had resolved to close his Mac to scrape a few hours of practical work—chores, feeding his pets, summer homework—together. He was stopped by the sound of his Tumblr messenger again, notifying him of a new message. Suga tilted his head to the side when he glimpsed the URL.

**thighmaster1: dude u should see him**

**thighmaster1: he is lord jesus**

**thighmaster1: he is the real slicka-slicka slim shady**

Suga snorted, and now he wasn’t hindered by the extensive process of doubting his actions beforehand.

_sweetsuga: But, the real question is if he can turn water into wine?_

**thighmaster1: lol i wish**

**thighmaster1: the guy’s practically a monk tho ://**

**thighmaster1: when he was barely into high sckool people would think he was 18 yeT HE’D STILL ORDERE A COKE OR SOMETHNG AT THE PUB**

Suga halted, fixated on the number eighteen. His previous hesitation forgotten, Suga clicked on thighmaster1’s URL, and was quickly redirected to his blog. It was ordered chaos, nothing alike his clean, minimalistic theme, a collection of amassed posts about fitness, healthy eating, memes and a few rare porn gifs. There weren’t any customised links Suga could see, nothing personal besides a sidebar image of three people in—anime?—cosplay and a short blog title that read: Datteboyo!

 _sweetsuga: Wait, where do you live_ ? _I’m from America._

**thighmaster1: oh niceeee^^ i reside in the flattest place on earth ft. never-ending summers**

_sweetsuga: Australia? Cool. I haven’t talked to anyone from there before._

**thighmaster1: BECausE THERES notHGN HERE**

**thighmaster1: we be the roo army**

_sweetsuga: Hold up, as in kangaroos?_

**thighmaster1: u know it kiddo B)**

_sweetsuga: Okay, Kangaroo Overlord._

**thighmaster1: ohohohhoho i like it**

**thighmaster1: but u do knw we ride kangaroos to school righttttt???**

_sweetsuga: We ride bald eagles. No big deal._

**thighmsater1: oh so the eagle has claws thiS IS GETTING I N T E R E S T I NG**

_sweetsuga: But are kangaroos a regular thing? Like, do you see them often? I’ve always wondered._

**thighmaster1: i saw one last tues outside my lunge room window**

**thighmaster1: little fcker was eating my lawn**

**thighmaster1: so yes i truly am the god of all kangaroos**

**thighmaster1: WAIT I MEANNT *LOUNGE not lunge I dont have a lunge room /i swear/**

_sweetsuga: Your URL would say otherwise._

**thighmaster1: it’s an inside joke with my volleyball team ~thighs of power and whatnot~**

_Sweetsuga: You play volleyball? I’m a setter!_

For once, Suga wished he could ignore his deeply banked perfectionism to use correct spelling, and simply write with the same casual, excited fervour as thighmaster1. However, he didn’t possess the same lazy arrogance as Oikawa, or the steely-eyed immovability as Iwaizumi, not even the single-minded enthusiasm as Nishinoya, Tanaka and Hinata. His personality was most akin to Kenma, quiet and demure, only Suga seemed content to speak freely and openly where Kenma remained forever close-lipped and shy.

**thighmaster1: oh sweeeet LORD IN HEVEN YES!!!**

**thighmaster1: de ball is lyf**

_sweetsuga: Be the ball, love the ball._

**thighmaster1: caress them sweaty sacks**

**thighmaster1: wait that went too far D:**

**thighmaster1: i ssuepr humbly beg ur apology my kinfd volleyball vretehren**

**thighmsater1: i meant *brethren wtf laptop**

**thighmaster1: actually ignore that whole sentene I was just EXCITED**

_sweetsuga: Clearly._

**thighmaster1: I can feel ur smirk from her emate**

**thighmaster1: I will pour fcking tea in ur harbour asshole**

**thighmaster1: NO WWWAIT**

**thighmaster1: LET EME RECTIFY MY HISTORIC BLUNDER!!!!**

_sweetsuga: We did that to the British. You lose :(_

**thighmaster1: oh u finally used an emoji!! or whatever that is idk**

**thighmsater1: I was starting to think my excessive use of exlamaiton!! points!! scared!! u !!!**

_sweetsuga: Don’t believe me just watch._

**thighmaster1: UGH NO I AHTE POP SONGs -.-**

**thighmaster1: i am intrigued tho**

_sweetsuga:_ (◕‿◕✿)

_sweetsuga: Look at that face._

**thighmaster1: pls if u start using them im gonna be the peasant in this relationship**

_sweetsuga: You live in a country of reformed criminals._

**thighmaster1: :OOOOOO**

**thighmaster1: how dare ye**

**thighmaster1: !!!OUTRAGE!!!**

_sweetsuga: You should meet my friend, he’d roast you._

After a moment’s deliberation, he decided a little added sarcasm was acceptable, even in such a newly-made—friendship?

 **thighmaster1** : **we;ll do a swap, so u meet the jesus and i meet the roaster**

**thighmaster1: he probably likes coffee dont he**

**thighmaster1: he should get a cafe and cal it the DAILY GRIND yeahyehayeahhh**

_sweetsuga: Firstly, it’s scary to think but my friend would love that idea. And secondly, anyone who can rock a robe is good in my book_ _(´｡• ᵕ •｡`)_

**thighmaster1: actually wait**

**thighmaster1: u’d scare my boy asahi away**

**thighmaster1: too muc direct contanct and emoji ass shit**

**thighmaster1: soz but he is an awkward, tender soul ;-;**

_sweetsuga: Asahi?_

**thighmaster1: yeah that’s my guy**

**thighmaster1: not like MY guy i mean**

**thighmaster1: oh god its like thinking about if my bro is hot or not**

Suga frowned at the last three messages, unsure if his conversation partner was skirting the topic of their sexuality, or just outwardly opposing the idea that he could like his friend. He had to wonder if thighmaster1 was a guy or not, but Suga seemed confident in the assumption he was. But then again… maybe the rough, offhand turn of speech was just an inherent trait of all Australians.

He returned to the what had originally piqued his interest in Asahi.

_sweetsuga: Isn’t Asahi a Japanese name?_

**thighmaster1: yeah buddy**

**thighmaster1: my dad is japanese too, and he was friends with asahi’s dad, and so it was like the ultimate asian dad friendship and**

**thighmaster1: they r the super dads**

**thighmsater1: legit everyone in my v-ball team is japanese in one way or another its sudper rad**

_sweetsuga: Wow. That’s…_

**thighmaster1: cool huh?**

_sweetsuga: Yes, but also, weird?_

**thighmaster1: how???**

_sweetsuga: Both parents are Japanese too, and they got offered tenure at the National Air and Space Museum in D.C. so we moved here when I was a kid, but we live in Virginia._

**thighmaster1: dudeeeeee**

**thighmaster1: mateeeeeeeeee**

**thighmaster1: how r we both japanese volleyball players this is /INSANE/**

**thighmaster1: call the police because thUIS IS OUTAA COTNROL**

_sweetsuga: You’re telling me._

_sweetsuga:_ (☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞

**thighmaster1: o m g**

**thighmaster1: I just snorted relally LIUD**

**thighmaster1: MY PARENTS COULDVE HEAR DME**

**thighmaster1: I AHVE SCHOOOL TOMOZ PRAY 4 ME**

Glancing at his bedside clock, and wincing at the faint green glow of the automated numbers, Suga winced. It was sometime past midday now, and he didn’t know the specific difference in time zones between America and Australia. He reached for his tea again, belatedly realising it had long since gone cold, the smell and taste both having weakened.

Closing his Mac carefully, Suga set it aside and plugged the charger in before tugging his comforter up around his neck. The thickness of the fabric was almost unbearable to sleep under during the heat of summer, but the pillowcase had been cool beneath Suga’s cheek, and he had been eased to wakefulness by the sparse mouthfuls of tea he’d drunk before. He rubbed at his eyes, tired but not bleary with lack of sleep, and he was halfway through a yawn before his phone buzzed.

He pulled it close to him, elbows resting atop the comforter, phone tucked to his chest. Suga’s mouth parted, unbidden, when he realised it wasn’t Oikawa who’d texted him in a post-coital haze, expecting maybe a flash of Iwaizumi’s broad, naked back and the breathless, pleased curve of Oikawa’s grin. Instead, Suga was greeted to another message alert, the Tumblr icon winking brightly at him.

He opened the app, something akin to anticipation unfurling in his stomach.

**thighmaster1: i hear dsomeone commingg but its a-ok**

**thighmaster1: a hero enver dies**

**thighmaster1: I cnat even open my yeys enough to make a good gamign reference**

_sweetsuga: If it’s late, you should sleep._

**thighmaster1: no**

**thighmaster1: I will NOT conform**

**thighmaster1: *confrom**

**thighmaster1: wiat I spelt it right the furst time**

Suga smiled, because their conversation had flowed without friction, a little uncouth and random at points, but almost endearing. He’d seen people interact online before, in a familiar back-and-forth between near complete strangers in real life, but steadfast friends in virtual reality. Suga had never known someone like that, intimately—like Kenma and his constant gaming companion, or Noya and his steady exchange of innocently flirtatious snapchats with someone he refused to expose.

All his friends had another half to add to their whole, but Suga didn’t. He was surrounded by people who loved him, who made him happy, but he was alone in his own personal thoughts and feelings.

So, maybe he did want to see where this went—and if it would go any further.

_sweetsuga: Goodnight, Kangaroo Overlord._

**thighmaster1: talk 2 u tomoz mate**

**thighmsater1: i got a histroy double u better b ready**

**thighmaster1: also v-ball practise**

**thighmaster1: okay dude gnigth**

**thighmaster1: *g’ngith**

**thighmaster1: omg I msut sleep**

Suga shook his head and rested his phone face-down on the bedside table, smiling as the midday warmth wrapped around him, honey-thick and slow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my guys i am not fully committed to this fic (yet) but i'll try to update semi-consistently, depending on the feedback i get and if i'm ever struck by the /writing feels/.
> 
> up next: daichi is revealed to be a weeb


	2. Weeb Alert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _sweetsuga: I think you’re missing the most important part here._
> 
> **thighmaster1: wot mate**
> 
> _sweetsuga: That you’re a weeb._
> 
> _sweetsuga: ಥ⌣ಥ_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up, but the underlined text are links to whatever subject daichi or suga are referring to in the fic, so u can truly experience the same feels they do :')

**thighmaster1: okay so my mums alrarm went off at like 5**

**thighmaster1: an di /SUFFER/**

**thighmaster1: even tho I have to b up at 7 anyway I AM DEACEASED**

**thighmaster1: that wouldve had better emphasis if it was spelled correctly dammit**

_sweetsuga: It was spelled correctly_ (´⊙ω⊙`)

**thighmaster1: ur shitting me**

**thighmaster1: wow the thihgs of god strike again**

**thighmaster1: B)**

_sweetsuga: Is your mum going to work then?_

**thighmaster1: yeah okay so she drives trucks in the mines at cooper pedy**

**thighmsater1: like she does 2 full weeks there and then 2 full weeks of rest @ home**

**thighmaster1: and she’s leaving early 2day so me and dad are seeing her off**

_sweetsuga: Will it be a heartfelt goodbye? Complete with glistening tears and a release of the doves?_

**thighmaster1: lol nah man**

**thighmsater1: our dogs get sad tho :(**

_sweetsuga: You have dogs?_

**thighmaster1: i havE SEVERAL OF EM**

_sweetsuga: What breeds are they? And names? Tell me all._

**thighmaster1: step back kiddo**

**thighmaster1: becausse i lveo my dogs**

**thighmaster1: get ready for an 18 pg slide with attached piccs**

_sweetsuga: Go forth._

**thighmaster1: u almost had a star trek quote there but moVING ON**

_sweetsuga: I was more of a Star Wars fan_ (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

**thighmaster1: SAME**

**thighmaster1: but now to RELALY MOVE ON**

**thighmaster1: my fam has got 4 dogs rn**

**thighmaster1: first is like my pops retired border collie called ned and he is bootiful and kind and sweet**

**thighmaster1: hes like the old wise man in kids movies**

**thighmaster1: or ganDALF U FEEL ME**

_sweetsuga: Treebeard would’ve been a better comparison._

**thighmaster1: we need to have a long talk later about nerd culture okay but shhh my dogs**

**thighmaster1: and then we got my 2 kelpies**

**thighmaster1: called simon and garfunkel by mums request**

_sweetsuga: Wait, what are Kelpies?_

**thighmaster1: :O**

**thighmaster1: THEY R DOGGOS U SWINE**

**thighmaster1: like the ultiamte sheepdog u dig it**

**thighmaster1: small and deadly**

_sweetsuga: Like the ninjas of all dogs?_

**thighmaster1: mmm yeha boi**

**thighmaster1: BUT WAIT**

**thighmaster1: I SAVED HE BNESST TIKK LATE E**

**thighmaster1: *best till last**

_sweetsuga: I am ready. Lay it on me._

**thighmaster1:** **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

**thighmaster1: /drumroll/**

**thighmaster1: it is a shiba inu called tobimaru!!!!!!**

_sweetsuga: Don’t think I didn’t notice the excessive return of exclamation points._

_sweetsuga: But, aw, cute._

**thighmaster1: u haven’t seen sword of the stranger have u**

_sweetsuga: Was I supposed to?_

**thighmaster1: PEASANT**

**thighmaster1: how have u NOT**

_sweetsuga: What is it then? Teach me your ways senpai._

**thighmaster1: thank u my sweet kouhai :’)**

**thighmaster1: tis the greatest anime movie ever**

**Thighmaster1: the msuical score brings me to my kness**

_sweetsuga: I’ve only watched few Studio Ghibli movies here and there, but not much in the grand scheme of anime._

_sweetsuga: What’s it about?_

**thighmaster1: a super hot ronin dying his hair**

**thighmaster1: and looking after this kid and hs doge**

**thighmaster1: and he starts ahvin FEELINGS**

**thighmaster1: but he also has a *turns away dramatically* d a r k p a ST**

**thighmaster1: wathc it tis 10/10**

_sweetsuga: Do you watch other anime?_

**thighmaster1: fuck yeahhhhhhhhh**

_sweetsuga: I think you’re missing the most important part here._

**thighmaster1: wot mate**

_sweetsuga: That you’re a weeb._

_sweetsuga:_ ಥ⌣ಥ

**thighmaster1: did u just**

**thighmaster1: U WANNA GO**

**thighmaster1: /FITHE ME/**

**thighmaster1: i dont evne care about speeling ill wreck u**

_sweetsuga: You wouldn’t dare._

**thighmsater1: i cna and i will kiddo**

**thighmaster1: datteboyo bitch**

_sweetsuga: Explain what that means first._

_sweetsuga: Then I'll dump tea in your harbour SO FAST._

**thighmaster1: aw look at u using caps :’)**

**thighmaster1: im so proud**

**thighmaster1: HWOA WHWOA WHOA**

**thighmaster1: u don’t know what datteboyo is??**

**thighmaster1: im gonna be hokage one day???????**

**thighmaster1: belive ut???????**

_sweetsuga: We’ve established that I’m not a commoner. Or a weeb._

**thighmaster1: fcking come at em bro**

**thighmaster1: but its from….**

**thighmaster1: the greatest show off all time…**

**thighmaster1: and mt childhood….**

_sweetsuga: Bear In The Big Blue House?_

**thighmaster1: get out**

**thighmaster1: BUT ITS……..**

**thighmaster1: *whispers softly* naruto**

_sweetsuga: I’ve never seen it._

_sweetsuga: But I have seen the[German intro](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8xoTBZrzko)_   _for it._

Daichi blinked at the supplied link for a moment in the dim of his bedroom. He pressed open, wasted fifty-four seconds of his life, returned to his inbox, and wished his morning had started differently. He didn't feel anger, merely crushing sadness.

**thighmaster1: HOW DARE U TIANT ME**

**thighmaster1: TTHEY PRONOUCED SASUKE SO WEIRD**

_sweetsuga: It’s good, right? Top tier shit._

**thighmaster1: youre a tope tier shit alright**

**thighmaster1: i don’t eve like sasuke but I feel offednd for him**

**thighmaster1: like**

**thighmaster1: even dick shinobis needa the respect**

_sweetsuga: Chill. I’m sure Sasuke tries his best for you._

**thighmaster1: o m g**

**thighmaster1: do not come NEWAR ME**

**thighmaster1: W ITH A SASUKE REDEPMTION SPECIAL**

**thighmaster1: NOT ASFTER HOW EH DISREPCTED ITACHIS MEOEMRY**

_sweetsuga: Whose Itachi?_

**thighmaster1: -.-**

**thighmaster1: thats**

**thighmaster1: fccking**

**thighmaster1: it**

_sweetsuga: Please no._

_sweetsuga: Don’t hurt me I’m innocent._

**thighmaster1: time to ddddDUUUEUUEL**

_sweetsuga: How can you use Yu-Gi-Oh against the sweet youth?_

**thighmaster1: u can turn this against me**

**thighmaster1: *cant**

**thighmaster1: *CANNOT**

_sweetsuga: I have another[Yu-Gi-Oh vid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uT6tqkDJ8nI)_ _that’s twice as good as the Naruto one._

**thighmaster1: oh wiat**

**thighmaster1: now i feel intimadted**

Daichi suffered through nearly another seven minutes of pain, despite laughing once or twice. Maybe. Between bouts of cringing.

**thighmaster1: can u sto op ruining all my childhood favs**

**thighmaster1: if u put me through this**

**thighmaster1: then u suffer 2**

_sweetsuga: Dear god._

**thighmaster1: all ym friends a re sick of heairng this so**

**thighmaster1: WLECOME TO MY NARUTO COSPALY**

_sweetsuga: Oh is that what your sidebar image was?_

**thighmaster1:** **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

**thighmaster1: u been looking at my quality ass blog!!**

_sweetsuga: You can’t prove anything._

**thighmaster1: but wait**

**thighmaster1: back to naruto**

_sweetsuga: Will we ever not be talking about Naruto?_

**thighmaster1: literally never**

**thighmaster1: okay so my boys and me went to avcon this year**

**thighmaster1: whic h is basically like the cloest we got to an anime con**

**thighmaster1: and**

**thighmaster1: like bokuto has tthe hair for kakashi**

**thighmaster1: nd i always wanted to buy gai sensei’s jumpsuit fro a legit reason**

**thighmaster1: my dad had been dreading the day he had to buy it for me :’)**

**thighmaster1: oh yeah and kuroo went full asuma**

**thighmaster1: but mate it was the best day of my fuckng lyf**

_sweetsuga: Cool! But I can only confidently say I know who Kakashi is._

**thighmaster1: hes my father thats who he is**

**thighmaster1: wait look Iill send u a pic of us guys being guys**

**thighmaster1: blokes being blokes**

It was the same picture as Daichi’s sidebar, him standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Kuroo and Bokuto. It looked stupid and dorky and embarrassing from an outsider’s point of view, but he could still remember his exhilarating happiness in that moment—how it had made him feel eternal.

Staring at the image, Daichi smiled again. He stared at himself, standing between his two friends, hands tucked under his armpits and smiling so hard and so bright his eyes crinkled. Kuroo’s arm was perched on Daichi’s shoulder, his head tilted back in an expression of lazy confidence, an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. Adopting the same place at Daichi’s opposite side, Bokuto‘s exuberant grin was hidden by a mask and a shambling homemade copy of Icha Icha Paradise, his uncontrollable silver hair gelled and spiked.

**thighmaster1: just then i was so close to saying ~so hard to have a gaytime on ur own~**

_sweetsuga: Wait._

_sweetsuga: Repeat that again._

**thighmaster1: oh fuCK U GUYS DONT HAVE GAYTIMES**

**thighmaster1: AAHHHH**

**thighmaster1: HTEY ARE ICECREAMS omg here look**

**thighmaster1: ill link u 2 the[old ass gaytime ad](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Pq8TFptKR4)** **too shiT**

_sweetsuga: I’m expecting big things now. Wow._

Daichi occupied himself with searching through his saved photos for his cosplay folder, waiting for the familiar alert of a message. He exhaled as his frantic heartbeat settled, making a note never to keep references to Australian-known icons to a minimum. Excluding the whole shrimp-on-the-barbie thing… or anything Paul Hogan ever did in the name of tourism or astoundingly over-the-top movies.

_sweetsuga: I cannot._

_sweetsuga: That was beautiful._

**thighmaster1: foriegners do not understand hwo good they are tho**

**thighmaster1: gaytimes are the shiz**

_sweetsuga: I need that song as my personal theme song._

**thighmaster1: wait a sec**

_sweetsuga: What is it?_

**thighmaster1: i hear fucking magpies**

_sweetsuga: Magpies? Are they bugs?_

**thighmaster1: theEY R BIRDS U ASS**

**thighmaster1: in spring they swwop u and u die**

**thighmaster1: omg but nnow my dads telling me to get up**

**thighmaster1: and tobimarus on my bed**

_sweetsuga: Dogs are cute though!_

**thighmaster1: i know.**

**thighmaster1: but hes my personal alarm**

**thighmaster1: i wanna figth aand hug him**

_sweetsuga: Always hug. Never fight._

**thighmaster1: u speak the truth**

**thighmaster1: i fuckign love my pup <3**

**thighmaster1: but okay I relaly gotta get up soon**

**thighmaster1: gotta pcik u jesus 4 schhol**

_sweetsuga: He studying carpentry?_

**thighmaster1: ohohohhhhhhhhhhh**

**thighmaster1: noice**

**thighmaster1: okay im going now**

**thighmaster1: tlak 2 u later in the arvo**

_sweetsuga: In the what?_

**thighmaster1: oh damn I frogot u a yankedoodle**

**thighmaster1: i meant the afternoon**

**thighmaster1: after I have smoko**

_sweetsuga: That's yankee doodle to you, Kangaroo Overlord._

_sweetsuga: But what’s smoko?_

**thighmaster1: nothin improtant mate**

**thighmaster1: u bloody drongo**

_sweetsuga: Oh, I see how it is_ (T＿T)

Daichi didn’t look at his phone until lunch, filtering through his usual slew of snapchats with an egg and bacon roll at his lips before stopping. Yolk dripped down his shirt in a slow drip of yellow. He’d meant to scope out sweetsuga’s blog this morning.

“Daichi, your shirt,” Asahi said, leaning over the table to catch Daichi’s gaze. It took a few moments, because, for such a large bloke, he wasn’t easily noticed.

“What?” He blinked.

“The egg, it’s leaking onto your shirt.”

“Oh. Yeah. _Shit_.” Daichi pitifully dabbed at his shirt with his food wrapper, smearing the yellow stain more than cleaning it. “This was the only shirt I washed last weekend. Double shit.”

“What were you thinking about?” Asahi asked, arranging his Tic Tacs into two straight lines on the table.

“I was talking to someone online last night, and all I remember is them being American and my bad spelling. And then this morning we talked about my dogs and weebs. They seemed cool though, despite believing that kangaroos were a myth.  Or we rode them to school, or something.” He squinted. “Wait, that fucker called me the Kangaroo Overlord.”

Asahi snorted beside him, ducking his head so the sound wouldn’t carry.

After another moment of consideration, Daichi committed himself to the task he’d failed to complete this morning—to scope out sweetsuga’s blog. He cast a cursory glance around the room, spotting his fellow classmates talking over lunch or draped across tables. Only one person was seated at desk with a laptop, actively studying where the remaining few gossiped, or recovered from their late-night efforts to finish the Modern History homework assigned three weeks ago.

Daichi cupped his hands over his mouth and called, “Oi, Akaashi!”

No one seemed concerned with the sudden volume increase except Asahi, who raised his shoulders as if to block the imaginary attention directed their way. It was too far into the year for people to care about anything other than Maccas runs, exam prep, or coordinating their sleep-ins to their free periods.

“What is it?” Akaashi didn’t even turn around.

“I need your laptop.”

“Get another one.”

Daichi finished his egg and bacon roll, swiping his mouth. “They’re all the way over in the other room, you douche canoe. And none are plugged in to charge past recess.”

Akaashi sighed, “Fine.”

The door burst open, and this time people did look, including Akaashi.

“Ahoy ahoy,” Kuroo said, substituting normal greetings for whatever shit had filtered through his meme factory of a brain. Bokuto had one arm swung around his friend’s shoulders, another cradling a paper bag marked with the McDonald’s logo.

“You can’t drive to Maccas for every meal, Kuroo.”

“I did no such thing,” Kuroo smirked, and then pointed at Bokuto, “because he was the one who drove.”

Daichi eyes narrowed, and he said, “You disgust me.”

“Here,” Akaashi said, interrupting the brewing argument between teenager and pseudo-parent. He placed the laptop in front of Daichi with a delicate grace, as if the weight had been balanced perfectly in his palm.

“ _Arigato_.”

Akaashi made a soft noise of amusement as Daichi signed into his account. He heard Akaashi disappear from behind his chair to collect the Psychology essay he’d just printed, after having spent the last twenty minutes editing it. Bokuto—who had been openly staring at Akaashi since he’d appeared—followed him out, offering a drooping french fry in the equivalent of innocent flirting via fast food. Kuroo watched them leave, commenting on having to bear witness to a shoujo romance in the flesh.

After enduring the slow torture of public school internet, Daichi had logged into his Tumblr account to minimal success. It took several decades to load the website page, but that was a win in his book. He clicked into his inbox, ignoring his deplorable grammar and even more dismal spelling before redirecting to sweetsuga’s blog.

Daichi’s fingers stilled over the keyboard, because yes, sweetsuga was a paradigm of aesthetic minimalism, all bare white space and clean lines, but he hadn’t expected—

He hadn’t ever paid much thought to what sweetsuga looked like, but he had to now, staring at the second post down on sweetsuga’s blog. It was a selfie. Those kind of selfies that were meant to be framed in the Louvre, or whatever fancy ass museum appreciated true art.

Because—

Because sweetsuga was a solid ten.

It seemed he—because it was a guy, a _pretty_ guy—was caught in the moments before laughter, since Daichi couldn’t rationalise how somehow could look like that naturally. Wisps of silver hair framed a round face, his skin smooth and clear, and brown doe-like eyes almost fucking _sparkling_ in the frame of frozen time. His mouth was pulled into a wide, easy smile that was made to form encouragement, to never be cruel. Daichi’s gaze was pulled to a beauty mark, painted just above the point of sweetsuga’s right cheekbone, and he blinked to gain focus.

Because the dude was fucking angelic.

Daichi had never even approached the idea that he would be so goddamn cute. Or a guy. A _cute_ guy. Which was an unfortunate realisation, because Daichi’s type was just that—cute, either guy or girl.

“Jeez, tag your porn,” Kuroo said, shocking Daichi out of his reverie by the sheer power of the former’s leer.

“What?” Daichi floundered, feeling as if he had been caught red-handed. His mind was still centred on sweetsuga— _He’s cute, he’s fucking cute._

“That.” Kuroo was pointing at the first post, oblivious to Daichi’s mental turmoil.

_He’s cute, he’s meeting all my standards. Fuck. Dammit._

Daichi was faced with two options—fight or flight, and so he flew. He exited sweetsuga’s blog at breakneck speed, returning to his dash. Kuroo rested his chin in his cupped palm with a languid indolence, perched across the tabletop like one of Jack’s French girls, amused by the sight of Daichi’s flushed composure.

Ignoring the frantic beat of his heart, Daichi warned, “Don’t even start.”

Kuroo grinned, but remained silent, instead turning to disrupt the perfect line of Asahi’s Tic Tacs.

Daichi stretched his fingers, inhaled, and began typing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those (few) who aren't familiar with naruto (u peasants), here are some helpful visual references for the three characters bokuto, daichi and kuroo cosplay as:
> 
> bokuto/kakashi:  
> 
> 
> daichi/gai:  
> 
> 
> kuroo/asuma:  
> 
> 
> also, feel free to ask me any questions about aussie slang or anime references!! because i had to explain to lauren what a drongo was (it basically means "dumbass").


	3. Of Dad Jokes And Sexual Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _sweetsuga: And I’m gay._
> 
> **thighmaster1: hi gay im dad**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick warning that there's a mention of american-based homophobia in this chapter, but it'll be brief and i won't dwell on such heavy themes in the future since i'm trying to keep this fic pretty light. be safe, kids <3

Over the next week, the prized mantle of the person who Suga looked forward to talking to the most passed from Oikawa to thighmaster1. He only had to sacrifice accurate spelling, comments on how Iwaizumi’s biceps glistened in different lighting, and an actual person for a faceless personality who thrived on using Australian colloquialisms and out-of-context anime references.

Suga would’ve been more comfortable with the fact he was sidelining his best friend for an online relationship if he stopped referring to the latter as thighmaster1 in his head. Or if he knew their name, gender, or age. Anything besides them being an Australian highschooler and being friends with Jesus.

“Stop thinking about him,” Oikawa said from where he was lazing on his living room couch, head pillowed on Iwaizumi’s thigh.

Suga feigned innocence. “Who?”

“Your significant other.” A deliberate pause. “Since I’m no longer significant to you.”

Concerning the majority of Suga’s time wasn’t dedicated to Oikawa now, it was only natural to believe that Oikawa wouldn’t handle the news well. And he wasn’t—not when he was being deprived of the precious attention he so sorely needed in lieu of Iwaizumi purchasing the remastered Skyrim.

“There’s nearly a thirteen-hour difference between us,” Suga said with a delicate lightness. “So they’re asleep.” Almost as an afterthought, he glanced outside, at the golden shafts of early afternoon sunshine filtering through the branches of a maple tree. It was morning in Australia still, but Suga wasn’t thinking about that—he wasn’t. Really.

Oikawa sat up, his eyebrow raised in critical scrutiny at the use of non-gendered pronouns. “You still haven’t asked him?”

“ _Them_ ,” Suga corrected, blowing a flyaway strand of hair out of his eyes. “And no, I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve barely known them a week.”

“And yet you’re already staring out a window, chin propped on your hand like some forlorn love interest, pining.”

His limbs freezing in place, Suga turned his head at a slight angle to glean the sight of Oikawa’s mouth curling into a satisfied, gleeful grin before it disappeared. Oikawa cried out in startled indignation as Iwaizumi’s arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him into his lap in an ungraceful sprawl.

Suga turned to watch Iwaizumi’s character wander through an ice-encrusted wilderness on the TV screen, allowing the activity in his mind to ebb, filling with a vacant space. His smirk was hidden in the damp curve of his palm as he waited for Oikawa’s inevitable shout of, “Iwa-chan!”

“You can’t force Suga to tell you shit,” Iwaizumi replied. His gaze was trained ahead, words as firm as his focus despite Oikawa’s valiant intentions to divert his attention elsewhere—to _him_ , to be exact.

“But Iwa-chan—”

“No.”

Suga couldn’t see Oikawa’s face, but he could guarantee that the latter’s expression was twisted around a sullen pout. And, judging how Oikawa had disentangled himself from Iwaizumi’s lap to settle on his knees, leaning forward, Oikawa had wanted Iwaizumi to acknowledge his displeasure.

“But Koushi—” Oikawa started.

“No.”

There was a moment where Oikawa’s shoulders dropped in defeat, and Suga was prepared for the remaining evening to be spent in simpering company, but his predictions were proved unfounded. Because Iwaizumi paused his game, just for long enough to make Oikawa look up, his interest piqued. Hooking a finger under Oikawa’s chin, Iwaizumi caught Oikawa’s lips in a kiss, taking full advantage of how his mouth parted in surprise at the gentleness of Iwaizumi’s actions.

As his conservative values were held in high esteem, Suga had begun to look aside to provide some semblance of privacy before Iwaizumi had pulled back. Oikawa fell forward, unbalanced at the sudden lack of Iwaizumi there to support him, and flushed with the rare gesture of affection. He stared at Iwaizumi—who had returned to his game as if nothing had transpired—before shock swept across his features, tightening into a mask of affronted outrage.

Rolling his eyes, Suga rested his head in the cradle of his crossed arms. His focus had shifted to the book he’d been reading before to tune out the buzz of background noise, but his attention had waned, and he was lazily doodling in the blank spaces of the page as his sleepy eyelids shuttered to a close. He was roused awake with Oikawa’s hand on his shoulder, shaking him to blinking alertness.

“Want some tea?” Oikawa asked.

Suga glanced outside, noticing the fallen night. “What time is it?”

“Little past eight. You’re staying the night, right?”

“Oh. Yeah, I was.” Suga rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands, fighting the grainy feeling of drowsiness. “I’ll have some tea.”

“Peppermint?”

Suga hummed, and after Oikawa had left the room—the TV was dark and Iwaizumi was gone—he blinked in rapid succession, the fog in his mind clearing as his vision sharpened. His heartbeat thudded in his chest as he fished his phone from his pocket, opening it hurriedly, and smiling at the sight of a red bubble crowning his Tumblr icon, reading 12 unread messages.

**thighmaster1: mkay s my hsitory teacher told me somethin intereisng the other day**

**thighmaster1: xcuse the spelling mornigsn suck**

**thighmaster1: but u bassically won the revolution with a bunch o farmers**

**thighmaster1: either britian sucks ass or ur farmers r trained asaassins**

**thighmaster1: nd everytime i heard minutemen i thougth of fallout**

**thighmaster1: so ur either a post-apocaltpyic faction or ggifted assasins**

**thighmaster1: WHO R U????**

**thighmaster1: WHO DO U WORK FOR??????**

Suga scrolled down with his forefinger, noticing how the next message had been sent nearly an hour later.

**thighmaster1: wher e u at boi**

**thighmaster1: fine break my heart**

**thighmaster1: ill be off doing manly things**

**thighmaster1: and by manly things i mean**

_sweetsuga: Sorry, I was taking a nap_ _(_ _≧_ _Д_ _≦_ _)_

_sweetsuga: But, you must know, America is stubborn enough to win by sheer force of will alone._

_sweetsuga: Although trained assassins sounds a heck of a lot cooler._

Moving to tuck his mobile back into the confines his pocket, Suga was surprised to hear the preppy alert of a received message no more than ten seconds later.

**thighmaster1: why were u NAPPIN??**

**thighmaster1: its like 10 in ht emorning u fool**

**thighmaster1: oh waIT**

_sweetsuga: Time difference, remember?_

**thighmaster1: u live in america**

**thighmaster1: i keep forgettign ugh**

**thighmaster1: shoudlnt u be at school then??**

_sweetsuga: It’s summer break here now._

_sweetsuga: And school starts next week_ (;*△*;)

**thighmaster1: u havent even started sckool yet??**

**thighmaster1: and ur in summer 2????**

_sweetsuga: Yeah, I await the sweet embrace of death._

**thighmaster1: sweet sweET MOTH HER**

**thighmaster1: SNE D RU CHILD UNTO M E**

**thighmaster1: BE CAUSE THE SINS OF THE UNWORTY MUST BE BAPTISDE IN BLOOD AND FEAR**

_sweetsuga: Stop. Please. I am innocent._

**thighmaster1: :’)**

**thighmaster1: u peasant**

**thighmaster1: when will we share common interests**

**thighmaster1: besides likving the v-ball**

_sweetsuga: I can’t seem to interject between all the anime references._

**thighmaster1: oh My g OD**

**thighmaster1: thAT was FRO m a  GAME**

**thighmaster1: /GAME/**

_sweetsuga: Oh no._

_sweetsuga: Can you ever forgive my blunder?_

**thighmaster1: i cant forgive u saying blunder but okay**

**thighmaster1: i also cant forgieve ur sarcasm**

**thighmaster1: but ill let this one slide mate -.-**

**thighmaster1: it was from a game tho!! a very good game!!!!**

_sweetsuga: What’s it called?_

**thighmaster1: skyrim *will smith gesture* remastered**

_sweetsuga: Iwaizumi was playing that before!_

**thighmaster1: is iwaizumi ur friend??**

**thighmaster1: the roaster??**

_sweetsuga: No, Oikawa is the one who delights in occasional roasting._

_sweetsuga: Iwaizumi is his boyfriend._

Suga’s fingers stilled over the illuminated screen, gaze fixated on the word _boyfriend_. He knew gay marriage wasn’t legal in Australia, and he hadn’t known thighmaster1 long enough to place a confident belief in him not being homophobic. Suga’s pulse jumped, not out of excitement now, but nervousness, and he wished that Tumblr had a delete or edit option in their messaging system. Or something.

**thighmaster1: noice**

**thighmaster1: he’s dating a gamer,, living the dream**

Sighing in relief, Suga moved to type a response, to find a subtle change of the conversation’s course. But, it seemed thighmaster1 was intent to thwart his plans otherwise.

**thighmaster1: um i gotta ask tho**

**thighmaster1: i talked to somone in murica before**

**thighmaster1: and isnt being gay like still a big thing there??**

**thighmaster1: OH GO D I SOUND LIKE A N ASS**

**thighmaster1: wait first i gotta say**

Suga inhaled, dreading the next message. The awkward halt in conversation, the polite but distant excuses of not being able to talk that would follow, the inevitable end to their newfound relationship.

**thighmaster1: i am a guy**

**thighmaster1: and im also getting bi**

Suga’s brow creased as he re-read the two last messages.

_sweetsuga: You’re bisexual?_

**thighmaster1: as the day is long my friend**

**thighmaster1: but did u notice my wordplay *finger guns***

_sweetsuga: I did. Very nice. Much skill._

Scrolling through the last string of messages, at thighmaster1’s casual, off-hand declaration of sexual identity, Suga steeled himself before taking the plunge.

_sweetsuga: I’m a guy too._

**thighmaster1: *high fives u* yeah now were relaly guys being guys**

**thighmaster1: duedes being being DUDES**

Smiling, Suga felt the tension seep from his bones, warmth flooding his veins instead. He didn’t need to be worried—he didn’t need to doubt. Now, he knew it would be alright.

_sweetsuga: And I’m gay._

**thighmaster1: hi gay im dad**

**thighmaster1: *high fives u HARDER***

_sweetsuga: DID YOU JUST?_

**thighmaster1: OMGG I JUST GOT FULLL CAPS OUTTA U**

**thighmaster1: i ha ve reached ht epromised land**

_sweetsuga: I don’t know if the dad joke made my virtual coming out better or worse._

_sweetsuga: Oh wait._

**thighmaster1: be ttER**

_sweetsuga: Definitely worse._

**thighmsater1: B E T T E R**

**thighmaster1: so mcuh better**

_sweetsuga: Had that dad joke been sitting in your arsenal for a long time?_

**thighmaster1: yepper doodle**

_sweetsuga: Yepper… doodle?_

**thighmaster1: let me love myy life**

**thighmaster1: i meant to say live but mkay**

**thighmaster1: ill let thsi  one slide spell check**

_sweetsuga: Like you actually use spell check._

**thighmaster1: well**

**thighmaster1: ur not wrong**

**thighmsater1: boi dnt come at me with thrid rate insults**

_sweetsuga: You use dad jokes._

_sweetsuga: You are third-rate._

**thighmaster1: :O**

**thighmaster1: OH**

**thighmaster1: my GOD**

_sweetsuga:_ (☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞

_sweetsuga: On a side note, was your question actually serious?_

**thighmaster1: yeah like so**

**thighmaster1: ppl are pretty accepting of lgbqt+ here**

**thighmaster1: i mena like i live in the country where theres a lot of different cultures nd religions**

**thighmaster1: so everyne learns to get along and ur used to it??**

**thighmaster1: like my mums bff is indian and igrew up with her kids**

**thighmaster1: and my old soccer coacha nd half my team were greek**

**thighmaster1: then a few ppl in my year are gay oand bi too**

**thighmaster1: wait like all my friends arent straight whoa**

**thighmaster1: in short,, like being different might be frowined upon but no ones gonna be a dick about it??**

_sweetsuga: That’s… actually quite nice._ _It’s different here, because there’s a ton of prejudice and discourse regarding anything that isn’t cis-white-straight. Even after gay marriage was legalized some families and school and church groups threw a huge fuss about how no one wanted it and they didn’t deserve equal rights._

_sweetsuga: And religion is also a big thing in the South, it’s very pro-Trump Republican, so of course you’d expect that identifying as any form of LGBTQIA+ would be quite dangerous. It’s not uncommon for people to be killed or hurt for it, like the Miami shooting, since it just makes some folks so uncomfortable or physically sick. It’s bullshit, but it’s the norm._

_sweetsuga: Sorry for long response I just get very heated about the subject._

**thighmaster1: nah its okay man fuck th e system**

**thighmaster1: hows the roaster and his bf going hten??**

**thighmaster1: that is assuming theyre out**

_sweetsuga: Well, Iwaizumi did come out to his parents last year… but they’re deeply religious, so it was pretty ugly. He was kicked out of his house, and then he started living with Oikawa, since his parents are a heck of a lot more liberal._

**thighmsater1: oh shit sorry**

**thighmaster1: my poor gamer buddy :(((**

**thighmaster1: they doing okay tho??**

_sweetsuga: Yeah, it’s been rough, but it’s better now. Iwaizumi has been working to make his own way and pay rent since he moved in with Oikawa, and he doesn’t talk to his parents much at all, but he’s happy. Acts like Oikawa is a burden half the time, but he adores him._

_sweetsuga: They’re actually one of those couples who are all over each other. Can’t be around them without third-wheeling. It’s kinda ridiculous._

**thighmaster1: like we talking public hand holding here??**

**thighmaster1: or gigGLING ITNO EACH OTHERS NECKS AN DLAKC OF PERSONAL SPACE???**

_sweetsuga: Yes to all of the above._

_sweetsuga: They sleep in the same bed and always kiss goodbye and brush their teeth together. It’s disgustingly domestic._

**thighmaster1: how dare they have a cute ass relationship**

**thighmaster1: i object**

**thighmaster1: WAIT DUDE**

**thighmaster1: M YY GUY**

**thighmaster1: MY MA N**

_sweetsuga: What, what, what?_

**thighmaster1: i realise that we told eahc toehr which teams we bat for**

**thighmaster1: before our fecking names 0.0**

**thighmaster1: her elet me star off**

**thighmaster1: my names dadchi**

**thighmaster1: *daichi**

**thighmaster1: wwow dadchi is like the holy grail of potentiaol innuendoes**

_sweetsuga: Talk dirty to me, Dadchi._

**thighmaster1: W H O A**

_sweetsuga:_ ⊙︿⊙

_sweetsuga: I’m sorry that didn’t sound so bad in my head!_

**thighmaster1: MATTEETeee**

**thighmaster1: how I have tainted u**

**thighmaster1: the day ahs come for u 2 take my crown**

_sweetsuga: The crown of sin?_

**thighmaster1: im sorry IF I AHVE POSTED LIKE 2 PORNN GIFS**

**thighmaster1: ND UR AN ~~~~AESTHETIC~~~~~ BLOG**

**thighmaster1: seriously**

**thighmaster1: that coment was unfounded**

_sweetsuga: I must repent for my sins._

_sweetsuga: And become the next Kangeroo Overlord._

**thighmaster1: u almsot had me**

**thighmaster1: /almost/**

**thighmaster1: cmon any name is better than dadchi now**

_sweetsuga: Oh, yeah. I’m Suga._

_sweetsuga:_ (▰˘◡˘▰)

**thighmaster1: hold the fuck up**

**thighmaster1: suga as in… sweet sugar.,, as in sweetsuga??????**

_sweetsuga:_ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**thighmaster1: I CANNOT BELIVE**

**thighmaster1: i didn ot dedicate my morning to /this/**

**thighmsater1: i was gonna buy a place in whiterun but i stopped playin for u**

**thighmaster1: and this is hwo u repay me????????????**

_sweetsuga: You thrust Dadchi on me._

_sweetsuga: The respective damage is done._

**thighmaster1: okayy never say “thrust” and “dadchi” in the same snrtence again**

**thighmaster1: pls suga**

**thighmaster1: i am but a lowly farmer**

**thighmaster1: i make mistakes**

Suga was grinning at the use of his name, too blind with his own happiness to notice Oikawa, observing him from the open doorway. “You coming?” Oikawa asked after a moment, allowing his best friend a few seconds of assumed privacy, just so Suga could remain smiling. It seemed beneath his glib veneer of self-centered egotism, Oikawa was benevolent—or close enough to it.

“In a sec.”

**thighmaster1: am i ever gonna live the dadchi down**

_sweetsuga: Not on my life, Daichi._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: pretends skyrim remastered has actually been released for fanfic purposes.
> 
> also, comments and kudos have been appreciated thus far!!!


	4. Poetry Is The Food Of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **thighmaster1: so u named ur cat after a gay poet**
> 
> **thighmaster1: le nice**
> 
> _sweetsuga: And you named your dog after another dog. From an anime._

“Akaashi, who in the ever-loving hell is Walt Whitman?”

The black-haired individual turned his head, appraising the merit of Daichi’s question. Leaning back in his chair, Daichi waited, watching as Akaashi resigned himself to answering.

“He was an American poet whose works often celebrated themes of democracy, love, the cycle of life and death, and the beauty of one’s body and self.” Daichi blinked in blank incomprehension, causing Akaashi sighed, forced to make a bland clarification, “he was a pivotal figure in nineteenth-century poetry, most renowned for his self-published _Leaves of Grass._ ”

“You’re leaving out the best part,” Kuroo huffed from his place at Bokuto’s side. However, Akaashi levelled Kuroo’s leering smirk with one precise glance, unimpressed. Shrugging, Kuroo returned to balancing the heft of his Chemistry book on his head to stave off complete boredom during their free period.

Under normal circumstances, Bokuto would’ve engaged Kuroo in an idiotic, if thrilling, escapade to pass the time—like stockpiling all the available pillows from the adjoining senior study area to construct a fort—but his singular focus hinged on the space which Akaashi occupied. His head rested over crossed arms on the table, Bokuto was hunched over his large spread of unfinished homework, staring at Akaashi in wide-eyed, open awe as he spoke.

“What’s the best part?” Daichi prompted sometime later, interrupting Akaashi’s intellectual spiel about the formative influences of Whitman’s works. His fingers over his phone’s screen, eager to return to his conversation with Suga, but Kuroo’s remark had piqued his interest.

Akaashi tilted his head, twisting a pen between his fingers with dexterous ease. “He is a well-known author of poems which included overt homoeroticism,” he said.

Due to Akaashi’s matter-of-fact tone of nonchalance, the startling revelation of his statement almost went unnoticed amidst the quiet murmur of noise within room, if not for Bokuto and Kuroo—who, of course, did notice.

In a comically short span of time, Bokuto’s spine had straightened, and he twisted around to meet Kuroo’s lecherous grin, and then both turned to look at Akaashi, who was pulling a book from his stack of English Studies material. He handed it to Kuroo in wordless acquiescence, no doubt anticipating how he and Bokuto would demand to read said homoerotic poems.

Exhaling through his nose, Daichi wished he shared one free period with Asahi—just one. He focused again on the conversation he and Suga had been sharing before.

**thighmaster1: so u named ur cat after a gay poet**

**thighmaster1: le nice**

_sweetsuga: And you named your dog after another dog. From an anime._

**thighmaster1: :O**

**thighmaster1: suga no**

**thighmaster1: how dare ue**

_sweetsuga: Serve, point, and match._

_sweetsuga:_ ∑(゜Д゜;)

**thighmaster1: the fuc k did u jsut use volleyball AGAINST M E**

**thighmaster1: om the capitan asshole fith me**

_sweetsuga: Read it and weep, Dadchi._

_sweetsuga: Oh, you’re the captain?_

**thighmaster1: sstttoooOOOOPPPP**

**thighmaster1: it was one time pls**

**thighmaster1: D:**

**thighmaster1: wiat u asked me aquestion soz~~**

**thighmaster1: yeAH boi!! im the captain !!**

**thighmaster1: u said u played setter right??**

_sweetsuga: Yeah! I’m nothing like Oikawa or Iwaizumi on court, or even Noya, but I’ve always loved playing. Enough to stick with it through junior year now, anyway._

**thighmaster1: plus dem sweaty boys and theur balls amirite**

**thighmaster1: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

**thighmaster1: whose noya tho??**

_sweetsuga: Our libero, another friend of mine. Small, but deadly._

**thighmaster1: noICE ICE BABY**

**thighmaster1: dammit why must vanilla rice rule me**

**thighmaster1: VNAILLA RICE OMFG**

**thighmaster1: okay but we don’t even have a libero so nice job ;)))**

_sweetsuga: Why don’t you have a libero?_

**thighmaster1: like i go to a public country sch ool right**

**thighmaster1: so we got jack shti fro a budget**

**thighmaster1: nd we only really play vball at the end of the year**

**thighmaster1: when li ke we go down to melbourne for a tournnament**

**thighmaster1: pickings are slim,, my frined :((((**

_sweetsuga: Australia needs to step up their game._

_sweetsuga: We’d destroy you._

**thighmaster1: ex cuSE ME SHITHEAD**

**thighmaster1: IMA SORRY I LOVE IN THE MSOT ISOLATED COUTNRY EVER**

**thighmaster1: WHWERE WE LIVE IN PE RIL**

**thighmaster1: fighuting the dangerous spiders nd snakeds and sea creatuers and shit**

_sweetsuga: Truth be told, the thing about Australia that terrifies me the most is the wildlife._

_sweetsuga: Your Naruto references also terrify me, but that’s another story._

**thighmaster1: nO PE**

**thighmaster1: insult me**

**thighmaster1: insutl my country**

**thighmaster1: but /never/ naruto**

**thighmaster1: BEUCASE IM NARUTO UZUMAKI AND IM GONAN BE HOKAGE ONE DAY**

**thighmaster1: believe it**

_sweetsuga:_ ¬_¬

**thighmaster1: can u hear me**

**thighmaster1: IM SIGHING SO LOUD RN**

**thighmaster1: my disppaointment can be heard from across the seevn seas**

_sweetsuga: Aye aye, captain._

**thighmsater1: if i wasn’t so angry id be impressed**

**thighmaster1: because im am the captain**

**thighmaster1: in the springtime of our youth**

_sweetsuga: Let the Naruto references end, Dadchi._

**thighmaster1: cmon suga**

**thighmaster1: AS SASUKE WOULD SAY~~**

**thighmaster1: UR ANNOYING**

**thighmaster1: OR AS SHIKAMARU WOULD SAY~~~~~~**

**thighmaster1: SUCH A DRAG**

_sweetsuga: Please._

**thighmaster1: DATTEBOYO BITCH**

**thighmaster1: WHAO wait how did u even know that was a naruto reference??**

**thighmaster1: have u been….,,, reseaching it……… foR ME??????**

Daichi stared at his Tumblr messenger, waiting, something akin to giddiness tightening in his abdomen. He blamed Suga’s selfie for making him feel like this, because Suga was cute, and however much he enjoyed their light-hearted, inconsequential banter, he couldn’t shake the image of Suga from his head. In the recesses of his mind, Daichi knew that if he and Suga had met in real life, had talked as they did now in person, that’d he want more.

But this—the ease of conversation, unhindered without the confines of adhering to a public standard, the simple fun of it—was enough. Daichi ignored the small part of himself that thought it was enough… for now, at least.

Daichi was drawn back into the present at the sound of Kuroo and Bokuto’s muffled sniggering, and the trailing words of an excerpt from the book Akaashi had given him. “How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn’d over upon me, and parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart, and reach’d till you felt my beard, and reach’d till you held my feet,” Kuroo stage-whispered to Bokuto, whose grin gleamed with uncontained mirth.

Gaze flickering to the title, Daichi wasn’t surprised to see it was a complete collection of Walt Whitman’s poems—Akaashi was dedicated to his courses, especially English Studies. Without thinking, Daichi had formulated a message and pressed send before he realised he had been waiting for Suga’s response. He made a low noise of displeasure, masked over the sound of Kuroo’s loud snort, and then Bokuto’s following hoot.

**thighmaster1: my friends are reading out walter white poems**

**thighmaster1: oops fuck meant walt whiman**

**thighmaster1: but i mena THE GAY poems**

**thighmaster1: /super gay/**

_sweetsuga: Just take a moment to imagine Walter White as a poet, though._

_sweetsuga: A kingpin with a tender, sensitive heart._

**thighmaster1: :’)**

**thighmsater1: MAG IC**

_sweetsuga: Magic aside, which poem are they reading out?_

**thighmaster1: how dare hye make me lsiten to this**

**thighmaster1: o oh god**

**thighmaster1: ah wait here we go~~**

**thighmaster1: all this I swallow tastes good, i like it well,, it becomes mine**

**thighmaster1: i am the man,,, i suffered and i was there**

**thighmaster1: IMPARASPHRASING HWRE**

**thighmaster1: *paraphrasing**

_sweetsuga: Wait give me a sec…_

_sweetsuga: Yep, that’s “Song Of Myself”._

**thighmaster1: do they get gayER THAN THATT???**

_sweetsuga: I think that was the gayest. Unfortunately._

**thighmaster1: unfortunately???????**

**thighmaster1: i like it**

**thighmaster1: okay oka okay WAIT**

**thighmaster1: did u seriosuly recognise that poem by like,, memroy alone??**

_sweetsuga: I like poetry. Like, really like it_.

**thighmaster1: say like one more time**

_sweetsuga: Like._

_sweetsuga:_ ( づ｡ ◕‿‿◕ ｡ )づ _._

**thighmaster1: yyyyyeahhhhhHHhHHhh**

**thighmaster1: has someone ever read poetry out to u before??**

**thighmaster1: like mmm tht shit would work like a treat**

**thighmaster1: esp on someone who named theur cat after a dead gya poet**

As Suga’s response lapsed, more prolonged than usual, Daichi checked the time in Virginia out of habit. He forgot how difficult it could be to work around their respective schedules.

“Daichi, off your phone.”

He jolted, phone slipping from his hand, falling to the table with a loud clatter. Daichi smiled in sheepish innocence as he turned to look at Mr. Takeda, who leaned inside the room with a reproachful expression, arms laden with unmarked practise exams.

“You’re meant to study in your frees,” the English teacher said, gentle despite his reprimanding tone. His glasses slid down his nose as he adjusted his workload, and the black frames threatened to fall.

“Yes, sir,” Daichi said with a half-hearted salute.

Takeda nodded. “And you three too.” He glanced at Akaashi, Bokuto, and Kuroo, startling them all into freezing in their positions, guilt evident.

Akaashi blinked in rapid succession, akin to panicking—because he took pride in his near flawless grades in English Studies, which Takeda taught. Bokuto noticed, of course, and he was set into flurried movement, because he never wanted Akaashi to be perceived as less than perfect.

Snatching the book from Kuroo’s hands, Bokuto shouted, “Akaashi was just helping me study, Mr. Takeda!” His intentions were amiable, enough so that Takeda sighed, believing it was worth forgiving the entire room of their accused misconducts.

Opening his mouth to speak, Takeda was stunned into silence as a pair of hands reached into view. Daichi and his friends watched, transfixed, as tanned fingers pushed Takeda’s glasses into a stable position with a delicate care. And then—it was Coach Ukai, stepping closer to Mr. Takeda, leaning down to admonish softly, “Ittetsu.”

The moment, there, framed in the doorway of a public country high school, was almost intimate—until Coach Ukai released he had an audience and promptly shat his pants. He flushed red under his skin, his blush lighter than Takeda’s, and time seemed to linger on before Takeda took charge of damage control.

“Um, okay, keep working,” he spluttered, flustered more so than usual. “We’re gonna—Yeah, we have work to do. Okay. Bye.” Ukai followed Takeda’s retreating back, and all tension seemed to flood out of the room at their departure.

“Do you think they’re banging?” Kuroo asked, smirking.

Daichi narrowed his eyes. “Is nothing sacred to you?”

Kuroo didn’t answer, because he was looking at Bokuto—needling for a reaction—but Bokuto was staring at the inside of Walt Whitman’s collection of poetry with a resolved intent. He was so absorbed he didn’t notice Kuroo lean over his shoulder to read the subject of Bokuto’s attention aloud.

“O you whom, O you whom I often and silently come where you are, that I may be with you. As I walk by your side, or sit near, or remain in the same room with you. Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing within me.”

Akaashi stilled, glancing sidewards to catch Bokuto’s frenzied expression before the latter shot upwards, the chair slamming on the ground with the force of his movements. He near ran out of the room, leaving a shocked Akaashi in his wake, his fingers pressed over his mouth in realisation. When it was clear that Akaashi had—for once—had lost his composure so badly he couldn’t seem to process how to react, or what to do, Kuroo grabbed his arm. He pulled Akaashi with him, both trailing after Bokuto.

As fate would have it, Daichi was presented with the opportunity _not_ to mull over his friend’s own personal drama as he caught the sounds of his Tumblr messenger alert. He shook his head, making a mental note to talk to Bokuto later, or Kuroo at least.

_sweetsuga: No, I’m not for one for receiving romantic gestures often._

Daichi blinked, his mind clearing of the somewhat romantic gesture he’d just witnessed to focus on the complete audacity of Suga not being romanced. He cursed his reaction, how his fingers willed to argue otherwise— _but you’re fucking cute, Suga._ Instead, he opted for a casual, rather than serious, display of affection over the internet.

**thighmaster1: okay wait lemme rectify this**

**thighmaster1: ill serenade the fuck outta u**

_sweetsuga: What, why?_

**thighmaster1: let it happen suga**

**thighmaster1: imma romance master**

_sweetsuga: I’m terrified, but intrigued._

**thighmaster1: mark me down fro scared and horny more like**

**thighmaster1: okay but**

**thighmaster1: my minds telllllllling me enooooooooooo**

**thighmaster1: but mymy bodyyydyyyyyy**

**thighmaster1: my bdodyyyyyys telling me yeaasss**

_sweetsuga: Oh god._

**thighmaster1: bbABBbYy**

**thighmaster1: i dontt wnanna hurt no booDdy**

_sweetsuga: Seriously._

**thighmaster1: but there issss something tha ti mussssst connnnnfeeeeAASSs**

_sweetsuga: Daichi, no._

**thighmaster1: i dont see nothging worng**

**thighmaster1: ~oooooooooOOOhhhhhHH~**

**thighmaster1: with a lil bump nd grinddd**

_sweetsuga: Are you done?_

_sweetsuga: Am I free?_

**thighmaster1: pls walt show me ur whitman**

_sweetsuga: Oh. My god._

_sweetsuga: I literally cannot._

**thighmaster1: so there**

**thighmaster1: now u can say uve been /romanced/**

**thighmaster1: was it better than expcected??**

_sweetsuga: So much better._

_sweetsuga: I’m never gonna settle for anything less._

Daichi smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter alternatively titled "piping hot mess" because thats what IT IS.
> 
> also  
> \- bokuaka??  
> \- ukatake??????
> 
> U KNOW IT.


	5. An Arrow To The Knee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _sweetsuga: You better have a good reason to why you're not doing exam prep._
> 
> **thighmaster1: well**
> 
> **thighmaster1: i used t o be an adventurer like U**

“Kenma, what in God’s green earth is an MMORPG?”

Without looking up from his handheld, Kenma answered, “Massively multiplayer online role-playing game.”

Suga tilted his head in consideration, one hand braced against the door frame he had so recently burst through. After a relative lifetime spent as friends and neighbours, Suga was assured that Kenma had grown accustomed to his unexpected coming and goings—the root of which was Oikawa’s prioritising his time with Iwaizumi rather than Suga now Daichi was involved.

And, like all things involving Oikawa, he was difficult to ignore—thus subjecting Iwaizumi to the sole focus of Oikawa’s pawing attention, and Kenma to the increased fervour of Suga’s visits. Although being in Kenma’s continued company did present Suga with the opportunity to prompt him on the translation of Daichi’s frequent use of gaming references, so it didn’t put him at a complete disadvantage.

_sweetsuga: Ah, yes. A massively multiplayer online role-playing game._

**thighmaster1: oh lookat u**

**thighmaster1: pretending t o undertand gaming lingo~~**

**thighmaster1: :’)**

_sweetsuga: Please. I game._

**thighmaster1: fuckign n00b**

**thighmaster1: but wiat**

**thighmaster1: fps or tps?? console or pc?????**

“What’s FPS and TPS mean?” Suga sat beside Kenma, tucking his feet under him as he relaxed into the cushioned seat, his open Mac cradled in his lap, long sleeves pooling around his wrists.

“First-person shooter and third-person shooter.”

“Which is?”

“First-person is played from the character’s point of view, and third-person is from an outside view,” Kenma said. His quiet voice was almost masked by the electronic sounds of his Nintendo DS. The recent release of Pokémon Go had revived his childhood passion for the game, from Red to Sun and Moon.

_sweetsuga: I prefer FPS. It’s a more absorbing perspective._

**thighmaster1: -.-**

**thighmaster1: uhuh**

**thighmaster1: but cmon console or pc tellme**

“Is a console like… an Xbox then? Or a Playstation?”

Kenma’s fingers stilled, the frantic tapping of buttons going silent as he looked at Suga, long and deliberate, before returning to his game.

“What?” Suga held a hand over his chest, mouth agape in mock offense.

**thighmaster1: u had to ask someone didn’t u**

**thighmaster1: Ohm y GOD**

**thighmaster1: i caught u out DNIDT I??**

**thighmaster1: SUGA ANSDWER ME SNEPAI**

_sweetsuga: Fine. I looked it up to relate to you._

_sweetsuga: To feel like I had finally achieved something._

_sweetsuga: To make you understand just how much I treasure you._

**thighmaster1: i cant tel if thatd sarcasm or like,, a compliment???**

_sweetsuga:_ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**thighmaster1: SHiT GoODAMMN BOY**

**thighmaster1: I TRSUTED U**

**thighmaster1: U WHERE MY BROTHER ANAKIN**

_sweetsuga: *Were._

**thighmaster1: oi fuck off**

**thighmaster1: but u kn ow that post with the birb??**

**thighmaster1: and he playing connect 4**

**thighmaster1: nd the repost capitony thing is “A FELLO WGAMER** ”

_sweetsuga: I know it, yeah. Vaguely._

**thighmaster1: stop using fnacy words dickstick**

**thighmaster1: but YES**

**thighmaster1: YEET**

**thighmaster1: SO**

**thighmaster1: ur the fucking bird in tat post**

**thighmaster1: u fak ee ass gamer**

_sweetsuga: Yeah, fine._

_sweetsuga: I yearn for your approval._

_sweetsuga: But how’s your History assignment going?_

**thighmaster1: i have truned to… other distractions..**

**thighmaster1: waiTNO**

**thighmaster1: im not wankign I SSWEAR!!**

_sweetsuga: Um._

**thighmaster1: *faint scrmeams from austraya***

**thighmaster1: beliebe me suga1!!**

_sweetsuga: I will not…_

_sweetsuga: Believe it._

**thighmaster1: :OOO**

**thighmaster1: i get all tingly when u make anrtuo references**

**thighmaster1: *naruto**

_sweetsuga: I love Anrtuo._

**thighmaster1: can u /not/**

**thighmaster1: oh fucc I almost got boned by a legendary dragoon**

**thighmaster1: let me e pick me flowres asshole**

_sweetsuga: I have never been more confused in my life._

**thighmaster1: i was playing skyrim**

**thighmaster1: an this drgon came**

**thighmaster1: ~randy orton rko~**

**thighmaster1: outtA NOWEHERE**

**thighmaster1: i am a lowly argonian theif pls lemme live**

_sweetsuga: With exams so close for you, shouldn’t you be studying?_

**thighmaster1: i was before**

**thighmaster1: but then,,**

_sweetsuga: You better have a good reason as to why you're not doing exam prep._

**thighmaster1: well**

**thighmaster1: i used t o be an adventurer like U**

**thighmaster1: and then u took an arrow to the knee**

**thighmaster1: OHOHOHOOOOOOhhhooho**

Sighing, Suga held the open conversation out to Kenma. “Explain.” He gleaned the smallest change in his expression—a twist of the mouth, gaze widening.

“Look it up.”

“But where’s it from?”

“Skyrim.”

“I should’ve known.”

**thighmaster1: FUS DO RAH**

**thighmaster1: dovakhn DOVAKHIN**

**thighmaster1: DOVKIN OF SKYRIM~~~~**

**thighmaster1: i am chanting too  but u cant her me**

Suga’s palm covered his mouth, smothering a giggle which threatened to escape.

_sweetsuga: Don’t neglect your education._

**thighmaster1: let me guess,, somebody stole ur sweettroll??**

_sweetsuga: Think of your future._

**thighmaster1: pls**

**thighmaster1: u can almost say I do**

**thighmaster1: no lollygagging**

_sweetsuga: You need to get a good job, Daichi._

**thighmaster1: no but chec k this out frist**

**thighmaster1** :[ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dXmPrYEOvM8](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dXmPrYEOvM8)

**thighmaster1: it me**

_sweetsuga: That was true art._

**thighmaster1: glad i could jingle ur bells whEW**

**thighmaster1: ;)))**

_sweetsuga: Did you just make a pass at me?_

_sweetsuga: Like the most vulgar pass in mankind?_

**thighmaster1: *gasps***

**thighmaster1: i would never**

**thighmaster1: or would i??????**

_sweetsuga: Sorry, I’m only attracted to stable financial situations._

**thighmaster1: if ur not playing ggold digger and makin it rai n over there**

**thighmaster1: then ive lsot all faith in huamanity**

**thighmaster1: okahy FUCK i gotta start my hmeowork soon**

_sweetsuga: What’s your assignment on?_

Suga was forced to wait a few idle minutes until Daichi replied, watching as Kenma tapped at the buttons on his Nintendo with a focused intent. His phone buzzed once, and Suga was surprised to see Kenma pause Pokemon in favour of checking his messages—which was weird because the one thing that disrupted Kenma’s gaming schedule was more games. People? Not so much.

“Who is it?” Suga asked, raising his eyebrows at Kenma’s mobile.

Kenma met his gaze for a moment before ducking his head in meek embarrassment, blonde-tipped strands framing his face. “He’s a friend.”

“Your social circle extends to me and my friends,” Suga said, teasing. “Who else would it be?” His smile widened when he saw Kenma’s cheek redden, fine-boned fingers tucking hair behind his ear in a nervous tic.

“Just someone I play online with, in a party.”

It was cruel to make Kenma admit it aloud because Suga knew whenever Kenma sat gaming with headphones near engulfing his head, he was with someone. He caught scarce snippets of their conversation whenever Suga left the room to grab a drink or Kenma thought he wasn’t there, but Suga surmised it was a good thing.

An early diagnosis of severe social anxiety and a subsequent lifetime of home-schooling had limited Kenma’s contact with people, and he’d struggled forming relationships. So, it was nice to know that Kenma had made bonds outside of Suga and his own friends through his own making. Even of Kenma hadn’t progressed onto talking to Suga about his online friend, Suga concluding it might’ve been a recurring theme in his friend group.

Online relationships had seemed to be a common factor in their lives—Kenma with his gaming companion, Nishinoya’s long-term Snapchat courtship with crowace3, and now Suga with his Tumblr mutual. In their entire social circle, Oikawa and Iwaizumi were the one romantic outlier, if Suga didn’t include the platonic but nonetheless remarkable camaraderie between Tanaka and Noya.

Shaking himself from his contemplative reverie, Suga opened his mouth to further prompt Kenma on his mysterious friend when his Tumblr messenger blinked with a new message.

**thighmaster1: mmm the long term causes of ww1 dude**

**thighmaster1: bsaically a lot of birkcering**

**thighmaster1: *bickering**

_sweetsuga: I thought you were studying the American Revolution?_

**thighmaster1: ug hh were doin ww1 and the chinese nd american revoluton**

_sweetsuga: You like it?_

**thighmaster1: yepperdoodle**

**thighmaster1: the teacher is hot af and the content is intereisng af**

_sweetsuga: Are you looking to going into International Studies in college or something?_

**thighmaster1: lol nah man**

**thighmaster1: probs physiotherapy but  idk**

**thighmaster1: im doing outdoor ed, biology and physics so im set anywayz**

_sweetsuga: What’s outdoor ed?_

**thighmaster1: outdoor education,, so we go on cool excursions**

**thighmaster1: like caneoeing and surfing and rock climbging trips**

_sweetsuga: Holy shit! We used to do boring things like play dodgeball, kickball, or something equally as lame a sport._

**thighmaster1: succk it loser**

**thighmaster1: plus I did a tafe course in year 11**

**thighmaster1: so it’s a hella lot easier to get into my course YeAH**

_sweetsuga: Tafe?_

_sweetsuga: Stop using made-up words, Dadchi._

**thighmaster1: cool ur jets murican eagle of jsutice and  patriotism**

**thighmaster1: so TAFE stands for ~technical and futher education~**

**thighmaster1: our school d oes a thing where u can do tafe course sin yr 11 & 12 on thrusdays**

**thighmaster1: and it gets u a certificate in certian practical fields??**

**thighmaster1: so like i got 1 in fitness and asahi is getting 1 in animal care and husbandry dis year**

**thighmaster1: okay hmu with what u subjects/courses u doin now**

_sweetsuga: Pre-Calculus, AP U.S. History, AP English, French III, AP chemistry, normal Physics, and two free periods._

**thighmaster1: the fuc k that sonds /hard/**

**thighmaster1: wait what grad e u IN????**

**thighmaster1: WIAT HOW OLD ARE U???????**

_sweetsuga: I’m sixteen, and just started junior year._

_sweetsuga: And you?_

**thighmaster1: i have no idea how the amrican education system works but okay**

**thighmaster1: ill be 18 at the end of the year boi**

**thighmaster1: im graduating dis year tho**

**thighmaster1: like in 2 MONTHS EW**

**thighmaster1: oh dat reminsds me**

**thighmaster1: im going to my pops she ep station in 2 weeks**

_sweetsuga: A sheep… station?_

**thighmaster1: oh sweet bby jesus**

**thighmaster1: its my grandfathers sheep farm in th eoutback**

**thighmaster1: where we,, farm.., sheep???**

_sweetsuga: The closest I’ve gotten to the Australian outback is the movie Kangaroo Jack._

**thighmaster1: ah h yes a true classic mmm**

**thighmaster1: nah mate btu my pops does shearing in oct**

**thighmaster1: an dme and mum come hlep him muster and draft and do whate ver**

_sweetsuga: Daichi, you’re gonna need to explain whatever you just said to me in explicit detail._

**thighmaster1: legit its so much easier if i could just clal u D:**

In all truth, Suga would’ve been lying if his pulse didn’t stutter at the thought of Daichi calling him. It was different to share verbal contact with a person whose appearance you only had a vague idea of. Gleaning what he could from Daichi’s _Naruto_ cosplay sidebar—that is, beneath the wig, green jumpsuit, and orange legwarmers—Suga surmised that Daichi did indeed have powerful thighs and a wide smile. He was too nervous to ask for a picture because that seemed like something close friends did, not someone he bantered with online.

Not that Suga was worried he would like Daichi even more after seeing what he looked like in person—no, not that at all.

**thighmaster1: but yyes i will have no wifi as pop lives in the middle OF N OWHERE**

**thighmaster1: ill send u pics tho!!**

**thighmaster1: because!!!!!!!**

**thighmaster1: pop has even m o r e dogs like ~gosh bless~**

**thighmaster1: nd asahi is comin for a lil b it so u can see jesus in his rela form**

_sweetsuga: How long are you going for?_

**thighmaster1: itll be term break so like two weeks**

**thighmaster1: oh fu cuK**

**thighmaster1: i wont talk t u for two weeks DDD:**

**thighmaster1: ill just have jesus and a pck of cards for enternatiment**

**thighmaster1: nah actually we gonna catch some yabbies and go shooting and stuff**

_sweetsuga: You’re not gonna forget about me?_

_sweetsuga: Your fellow gamer?_

**thighmaster1: suga pls**

**thighmaster1: i can’t forget the prettiest person i know**

Suga’s inhale was a sharp breath, because—Daichi thought he was pretty.

_sweetsuga: Take a step back, you think I’m pretty?_

_sweetsuga:_ (◡‿◡✿)

**thighmaster1: okay GOTTA JET**

_sweetsuga: Daichi!_

_sweetsuga: Get your ass back here right now!_

**thighmaster1: soz suga i gotta do home wwork**

**thighmaster1: but yeah ur pretty cute**

Suga laughed, loud and abrupt and so unlike his usual delicate chuckle, but genuine nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* join me on the [tumbleweed](http://diggitydamnsebastianstan.tumblr.com/)!


	6. I Come From A Land Down Under

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _sweetsuga: Are you gonna make me say it?_
> 
> _sweetsuga: Really?_
> 
> **thighmaster1: yes pls???**
> 
> _sweetsuga: You’re hot._

Daichi yanked the steering wheel down hard, jerking the car sidewards to avoid the sprinting form of the kangaroo over the road. The ute rattled and heaved over the uneven ground, lights cast over the muted blue-grey shapes of saltbush and pale dirt. Daichi reached for the radio, turning the radio higher until the cab was a cacophonous tunnel of noise.

“Daichi!” Asahi exclaimed. “Slow down!” His fingers were clenched around the ceiling hold, his grip white-knuckled.

They sped around a sharp turn, more noise than movement. Asahi cried out again, and Daichi laughed and kept on laughing. No matter how often the both of them travelled the road, Asahi was tense whenever Daichi drove faster than 60km/ph.

“You’re the one who wanted to come all the way out there to get some decent signal,” Daichi argued. He navigated around a pothole with a swift ease—it was a new obstacle, but Daichi had been able to read the land ever since his grandfather had bought it.

“It’s awkward going in the shearing shed for good signal with the whole team there.”

“They’re nice people, Asahi. You don’t need to be scared of them.”

“I know, it’s just…” Asahi sighed, looking out through the window in defeat.

“Too much sweaty manflesh for your delicate sensibilities to handle?”

Asahi snorted, and to Daichi’s unending relief, he smiled too.

“You stay out with the sheep with Pop and the dogs, and I’ll stay in the shed, alright?”

“Deal.”

Daichi waited a moment before seeing his chance and striking. “So,” he spoke with feigned innocence, “you gonna tell me who your mystery man is?”

“Wh-what? No.”

Unimpressed, Daichi cast a flat glance in Asahi’s direction. “Please. Dude. I’m driving out here so you can send him nudes. Give me little something-something for my troubles.”

The outstretching expanse of Australian bushland thickened with Mallee trees and Daichi pressed down on the accelerator as the ute struggled on an upwards incline. He dimmed the volume of radio static, allowing Asahi to collect his words.

“It’s rollingthunder4.”

“I know it’s rollingthunder4,” Daichi snorted. “You’re the one who cradles your phone to your chest whenever you get a snapchat from him. Not to mention I did see a sexy ass snippet of that full-length documentary he sent you before we left.”

Asahi spluttered, and if his skin wasn’t already red from two week’s worth of outside labour, Daichi would say he was blushing. “His name’s Nishinoya, and he’s from America.”

Daichi grinned. “The guy I talk to all the time is called Suga, and he’s from America too.”

Mirroring his expression, Asahi smiled. “You gonna talk to Suga when we get to Harry’s Hill?”

“Probs. Let’s hope the bloke hasn’t forgotten me.”

Like the paradigm of positive encouragement, Asahi said, “If you made the effort to stand on that old cupboard with me to try and get shit signal at the homestead, then I’m sure he’ll appreciate the effort.”

“You’re a fucking sappy bastard, Asahi.”

In a sign of good fortune, Harry’s Hill loomed in the distance, allowing Daichi to sidestep the whole Suga thing. Asahi was the first person Daichi had told about Suga, and putting a name to a friend who existed online made it seem more personal that it had before. Daichi flexed his fingers over the wheel, turning into the indented car tracks at the peak of Harry’s Hill, circling the oil barrel used as a marker.

“There you go,” Daichi said as the engine eased into a quiet roar. “Now go and ask for a dick pic.”

“Daichi! Can you— _Stop_.” Opening the passenger door, Asahi slipped out of the car, checking his phone before Daichi had even pulled the handbrake into place.

Daichi laughed, lapsing into nervous silence before stepping outside. He watched Asahi begin to sort through his uncounted mass of Snapchats, smiling with his usual gentleness, now fond. Sparing a moment to think if he looked like that when Suga messaged him, Daichi climbed into the back of the ute, waiting for his phone to buzz with concrete signal.

_sweetsuga: Oikawa wants to plan a Halloween party and Iwaizumi’s already sick of late-night planning and costume suggestions._

_sweetsuga: Wanna live vicariously through me and offer a costume idea?”_

_sweetsuga: You gonna answer, Dadchi? You gonna reply to the prettiest person you know?_

_sweetsuga:_ (◠ω◠✿)

_sweetsuga: Oh, you don’t have signal. I forgot, sorry._

_sweetsuga: Okay, so I know you won’t get this for a while but it’s like two in the morning here and Physics is kicking my ass and something’s been bothering me. Do you guys have Butterfingers? Or, like, any good confectionary?_

_sweetsuga: 100 Grand? Almond Joy? Hershey’s?_

_sweetsuga: Because I get through late nights on sweet tea and candy and—_

_sweetsuga: WAIT._

_sweetsuga: Do you have sweet tea?  Do you even drink tea?_

_sweetsuga: I am in dismay. Send help. This is a matter of national emergency._

**thighmaster1: bitch whaddup**

**thighmaster1: um,, we dont go t any of dem chocs :((**

**thighmaster1: but~~ we got like bottled swweet tea??**

**thighmaster1: no oone really maks it tho**

**thighmaster1: my fam are tea whores tho,, bushells is my mums fav <3**

**thighmaster1: also pls protect my bby gamr buddy from the roast er I LODE HIM**

_sweetsuga: Hey! You’re back_ ヽ (´▽ ｀ )ノ _!_

_sweetsuga: You finished shearing?_

**thighmaster1: nah mateo I took asahi to find the /good/ mobile singal**

**thighmaster1: to kep his cnpchat romance aluve**

**thighmaster1: *basically he got a hot assss snapchat bae WhEW**

_sweetsuga: How did you find good signal? Climb on the roof or something?_

**thighmaster1: okay SO**

**thighmaster1: theres dis one hill in this padd ock called harrys hill**

**thighmaster1:  nd it has a de good shit**

**thighmaster1: like idk man ut just has quality satellute  connection**

**thighmaster1: u come up with a halloweenie costume idea yeet?**

_sweetsuga: Are we gonna sidestep the whole Halloweenie thing?_

_sweetsuga: Okay, moving onto better things, so when Oikawa dedicates himself to something, you don’t see him for a solid week._

**thighmaster1: YA S**

**thighmaster1: ohh soz~~ continue**

_sweetsuga: How dare you interrupt me?_

_sweetsuga: It’s the first time I’ve talked to you in two weeks, Daichi. Let me speak!_

**thighmaster1: oh my swEET HONEY u missed meeee?????**

**thighmaster1: mkayy im done now pls go for th**

_sweetsuga:_ ヾ｜￣ー￣｜ﾉ

_sweetsuga: Yeah, to sum it up, Oikawa successfully balanced homework, planning a killer party and his daily scheduled addition to his Snapchat story with a selfie ft. the flower crown filter._

_sweetsuga: Iwaizumi suffered through sleeping alone, only to wake up and make coffee for Oikawa, kick him for being up at an ungodly hour, and then return to bed._

**thighmaster1: oka y wiat suga bby I gotta askk**

**thighmaster1: /ignore s the bby thing/**

**thighmaster1: but hw do u know every lilthing the raoster did??**

_sweetsuga: His life can be documented through snapchats._

**thighmaster1: like,, how much we talkn here??**

_sweetsuga: A whole bunch of them at night, most of Iwaizumi either in his underwear, frowning, or gaming. A few shots of scenery on his morning run, and a whole lot of selfies after school._

_sweetsuga: I think it’s about 300-700 seconds a day._

**thighmaster1: thats like  about 10 fuckING MINUTE SOMG**

**thighmaster1: who h as the timew??**

_sweetsuga: It’s worse when he’s babysitting his nephew, or Iwaizumi does something nice for once._

**thighmaster1: >:((**

**thighmaster1: do NOT.., slander my swwet gamer buddy!!**

**thighmaster1: he is pure**

**thighmaster1: he is go do**

**thighmaster1: i realise now ibe never seen a pic o f him**

_sweetsuga: Oh, I can show you pictures of our costumes!_

**thighmaster1: slutty nurse hopefuly**

**thighmaster1: ;)))**

**thighmaster1: o r slutty walt whitman YEYAH**

_sweetsuga: Please. I will have none of that crass language._

_sweetsuga: You come into my home._

**thighmaster1: forgieve me senpai!!**

_sweetsuga: It’s fine, I kid._

_sweetsuga: But Oikawa wanted to do a group thing with me and Iwaizumi, and the only thing we all agreed on was Star Wars._

**thighmaster1: heCK YEAH!!1!!**

**thighmaster1: SAPCE BAES AF!!!!**

**thighmaster1: whos doin wh o???**

_sweetsuga: We all wanted to be Han Solo, so the original trio was a no-go. And Iwaizumi wanted Finn’s Stormtrooper suit with the bloody handprint and everything, but… he didn’t fit into any costumes that weren’t ordered online._

**thighmaster1: zomg!!**

**thighmaster1: is he a sasqautch???**

_sweetsuga: No, he’s just ripped._

**thighmaster1: fucck,, yeah**

**thighmaster1: me likey**

**thighmaster1: are u going as the whole little orhpan annie swuad?**

_sweetsuga: Why do I even talk to you._

_sweetsuga: But, to answer your question, yes. Iwaizumi settled on Obi-Wan, Oikawa is basically Anakin without the horrible disfigurement and hatred of sand, and I’m Padmé!_

**thighmaster1: whoa whao w H O A**

**thighmaster1: what kinda padme are we talkin here???**

**thighmaster1: lik e pretty naboo padme?? politician padme?? secert handamaiden padme???**

_sweetsuga: You know on the planet of Geonosis after Padmé falls outta the ship, and she’s in that all-white outfit with the ripped shirt?_

**thighmaster1: like when shes kcikng ass in the cropt op??**

_sweetsuga: Yeah, basically._

_sweetsuga: I’m going to be wearing that!_

**thighmaster1: um wiat okay**

Daichi’s mind went black, because—Suga in a crop top. Exposed midriff. Tight clothes.

**thighmaster1: suga that’s hott**

_sweetsuga:_ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

_sweetsuga: I’ll send you pictures on the day, but at a price._

**thighmaster1: *gasps***

**thighmaster1: what did i evre do to u??**

**thighmaster1: yo b oi what sur price????**

_sweetsuga: I want a pic of you, sans Naruto cosplay._

**thighmaster1: but i live Naruto**

**thighmaster1: *love**

**thighmaster1: my phone autoccorected naruto to Naruto #wtf**

_sweetsuga: Stop avoiding the subject, Dadchi._

**thighmaster1: fine heres m y nudes**

Scrolling through his camera roll, Daichi sent the first saved fanart he stumbled across—a masterpiece wrapped up in a green jumpsuit, orange legwarmers and a stunning bowl cut.

_sweetsuga: That’s Maito Gai._

_sweetsuga: That’s Kakashi’s Hatake’s proclaimed rival, taijutsu expert, and Genin leader of Rock Lee, Neji Hyūga and Tenten in Masahi Kishimoto’s Naruto._

**thighmaster1: i just,, came**

**thighmaster1: nuthing gets me goin more than pretty guys talkjg bout naruto**

_sweetsuga: Oh Lord, I’m gonna develop a complex with all the compliments you’re giving me._

**thighmaster1: WAIIT IMAM SEND U A PIC NOW AS TANKS**

Daichi’s grandmother had made a sentimental habit of taking a shitton of photographs of her family—when working, swimming in the dam, or relaxing in dust-coated plastic under the veranda. She was also a forgetful woman, and often resorted to using Daichi’s phone to take pictures, so he thanked whatever higher power that she had got some decent shots of him in the shearing shed.

He halted at an image of him leaning against the holding pen, taking a moment of respite between bouts of picking up wool fleeces to throw out on the skirting board. Clad in a simple blue singlet, low-hanging jeans, worn boots and an Akubra hat tilted askew, Daichi had to admit he didn’t look half-bad. A little flushed and a sheen of sweat shining on the bare skin of his tanned arms, caught in an awkward mid-smile, but still serviceable—nothing like Suga though.

“Fuck it,” Daichi said aloud, fingers pressing send.

He waited, breath baited, and--

_sweetsuga: Oh._

**thighmaster1: oh what m8?**

_sweetsuga: Um. Well. You’re not what I expected._

Daichi frowned, nervous.

**thighmaster1: is th at a bad thing?? to austrlaina for u???**

_sweetsuga: A little too much everything._

**thighmaster1: suga wtf**

_sweetsuga: Are you gonna make me say it?_

_sweetsuga: Really?_

**thighmaster1: yes pls???**

_sweetsuga: You’re hot._

Laughter bubbled from Daichi’s mouth, taking him and Asahi both by surprise.

**thighmaster1: i an see it now**

**thighmaster1: its a dark night in murica.,, u get a message fro m ur aussie boy toy**

**thighmaster1: tis a qaulity ass p ic of him**

**thighmaster1: one thoguht flashes thru ur head~~**

**thighmaster1: *spongebob voice* oh no hes Hot**

_sweetsuga:_ ∑(゜Д゜;)

_sweetsuga: You got me._

_sweetsuga: Dammit, Oikawa’s calling me. I’m probably not gonna be able to reply for two hours._

_sweetsuga: Can we talk later?_

**thighmaster1: ill be home in 3 days max**

**thighmaster1: stay golden babe:)))**

_sweetsuga: You too, Daichi. Bye!_

Sighing in defeat, Daichi pocketed his phone into his jeans, closing his eyes.

The car bounced under the sudden influx of weight, shocking Daichi into alertness. “I got a text from Akaashi,” Asahi said as he clambered into the back of the ute.

Folding his arms over his chest, Daichi leaned against the cab, crossing his booted feet in front of him. Asahi soon joined him, mindful of the layer of grime and haphazardly thrown tools collected over the two week period.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, he just never texts me.”

“It’s probs because he knew Bokuto would text me and ask for advice,” Daichi replied. “He’s wondering what he should do now that Akaashi knows he likes him.”

“I just thought they’d… y’know, just get together once they knew.”

“Yeah, but Akaashi didn’t tell Bokuto that _he_ liked him back.” Daichi scratched his nose in consideration. “I think Akaashi was just taken by surprise, and now he’s too embarrassed to bring it up without Bokuto breaking out and telling him it’s okay to forget about it.”

“But—They like each other a lot.” Asahi paused, looking down, nervous despite the relaxed setting of remote quiet. “I mean, they already care about each other a lot. What else is there?”

Daichi had the creeping suspicion Asahi’s realm of thought expanded beyond Akaashi and Bokuto. There was merit to the question, some plea for reassurance that caring for someone that existed online—as a string of messages at odd hours of the day—was a valid basis for a relationship.

“You like him, don’t you?” Daichi punched Asahi’s shower to ground him, grinning. “You _dog_.”

“Stop it.” Asahi was smiling, flushed a light pink as he shoved Daichi’s arm aside in good spirit. After a moment, the ease of well-worn friendliness sobered, and Asahi grew silent—Daichi recognised it as a preparation to ask something he thought important.

Exhaling, Daichi tipped his head back, his gaze stretching wide at the expanse of clear blue sky. Being so far removed from the humdrum of technology and responsibility of a fast-moving world had always served to settle him, to clear his mind.

“You like him too, don’t you?” Asahi asked, serious.

It was absurd, but—

“Yeah, I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have an emotional attachment to this fic now. send help.
> 
> fun fact: all daichi's troubles are merited, as whenever i go to my pop's sheep station it's either suffer with no service or take a 20min drive to this goddamn hill in the middle of nowhere to send a quality snapchat. tis a nuisance.


	7. This Is Halloweenie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _sweetsuga: Daichi-sannnnnnnnnn_
> 
> _sweetsuga: You like me,don’t yiu???_
> 
> **thighmaster1: ur drunk suga,, go home**

**thighmaster1: u gonna show a pic of ur costiume yet**

**thighmaster1: i neED to see hte ass**

**thighmaster1: wait i realise ive necer see n ur ass**

**thighmaster1 :OOO**

**thighmaster1: I DONT KNOW W AT UR ASS LOOKS LIKE**

**thighmaster1: okay nowi demand a pic of ur ~~booty~~**

_ sweetsuga: I have half an hour before the party starts, so I have no time to take a picture of my ass for a guy I’ve never met. _

**thighmaster1: yeah but immma hot guy ;)))**

**thighmaster1: dats the best kin d**

_ sweetsuga: It was one time. _

**thighmaster1: ok but i only gto one chance to see u in a criop top!!**

**thighmaster1: nd now i feel a migthty need to see ur ass**

_ sweetsuga: Oikawa said he’d take a group photo later. Wait. _

**thighmaster1: i /OBJECT/**

**thighmaster1: tell th e roaster to succ his iwaizumis dick thatll save u some ti me**

_ sweetsuga: You realise I’ve known them two since, like, junior high. _

_ sweetsuga: I know once they start, it’ll take longer than 30 minutes. _

**thighmaster1: whA T THE FUCK DO THE Y DO????**

**thighmaster1: or is it liek the whole “porn w/emotional backstroy” shizza???**

**thighmaster1: do they light cnadles and play soft jazz and**

**thighmaster1: oh god**

**thighmaster1: thy take bubble baths togherter dont they??**

_ sweetsuga: I don’t know! Probably? Maybe. Most likely. _

_ sweetsuga: Scratch that. They defintiely would. _

_ sweetsuga: I think Iwaizumi has a fixation with marking Oikawa thouhh, I mean _

“You’re spending your time effectively.”

Suga jolted, his mobile tumbling from his fingers to fall to the carpeted floor. With a cautious trepidation, he turned with a death-like slowness to see Iwaizumi leaning over the back of the couch. His expression was blank, lips a flat, unimpressed line, although Suga did catch the imperceptible lift of his eyebrow in amusement.

“I was just—I mean, I wouldn’t be able to talk to Daichi tonight, so we—” All air fled Suga’s lungs as he tried to ignore the fact he had just been discussing Iwaizumi’s sex life. And now Iwaizumi—and by the end of the night, Oikawa too—knew he’d been  _ theorising _ about their  _ sex life _ .

“You wanted to talk to him before the party started?”

“Yeah.” Suga gulped. “At least for a little bit.”

Nodding, Iwaizumi seeming to remain collected and unconcerned despite Suga’s obvious unease.

“Um, Iwaizumi—”

“I think Oikawa needs you outside, with decorations or whatever the fuck he’s doing.”

“Oh, okay,” Suga unfolded his legs, relieved that he stumbled just once as he clambered to his feet. “I’ll—Yeah, I’ll go help him.” Due to his costume’s lack of pockets—and the space between fabric and skin—Suga clutched his phone in a tight grip, brushing past Iwaizumi with a feigned calm.

“Suga,” Iwaizumi called out as Suga reached a midpoint between freedom and crushing embarrassment, and accepted the latter in resignation.

“Yeah?”

“Oikawa likes to mark too.”

If Suga hadn’t been a solid line of tension before, he would’ve dropped his phone and shattered it—unlike his innocence, which he felt fracture at the knowledge of his best friend’s sexual kinks. And Iwaizumi—that stone-cold motherfucker—lingered another moment to appraise Suga’s reaction before leaving, the corner of his mouth twisting in the final moments of his departure.

Too stunned to move, or think in complete coherence, Suga glanced down in confusion at the feeling of his phone vibrating in his grasp. He blinked, remembering that he had been talking to Daichi before…  _ that _ .

**thighmaster1: SUGAA WHAT HAPE NED??**

**thighmaster1: u didnt us eperfect grammer &spelling**

**thighmaster1: im afeared**

_ sweetsuga: I just… _

_ sweetsuga: Witnessed a murder. _

_ sweetsuga: The murder of my blissfully ignorant life. _

**thighmaster1: 0.0**

**thighmaster1: why u ded??**

_ sweetsuga: Iwaizumi just shared private information about Oikawa and him. Like... bedroom things. _

**thighmaster1: ohohohooo**

**thighmaster1: nuaghtyyyy things???**

**thighmaster1: sexyyyy things??????**

_ sweetsuga: I’m not having this conversation with you. _

**thighmaster1: CMON BOIIIIII**

**thighmaster1: sit o n my knee nd tell dadchi ur stories**

_ sweetsuga: You will never take me alive. _

**thighmaster1: well then**

**thighmaster1: if u wont tell me stuff baout ur bros sexy justu**

**thighmaster1: then sedn me a pick of ur fine ass in dat costume**

**thighmaster1: do it 4 th vine**

_ sweetsuga: Your obsessive fixation with seeing my ass captured on camera maybe be flattering, albeit undeniably thirsty, but I have things to do. _

**thighmaster1: “”undeniabely thirsty””**

**thighmaster1: the fuc kk is this?? sckool??**

Suga’s response was interrupted by the sudden excited shout of, “Suga-san!” Deprived of an adequate warning, Suga was unprepared for the small redhead who jerked the patio door open, bounding inside in long, destructive strides.

The sophomore skidded to a precarious stop in front of Suga, near toppling into the side table. After a few moments, Hinata seemed to find stable purchase, looking up to grin at Suga.

“Wow, Suga-san!” Hinata exclaimed, bouncing on the toes of his feet. He seemed to be grinning larger and brighter than usual. “Your costume look so cool!”

“Hi, Hinata,” Suga said, smiling. He scrutinised Hinata’s outfit, although the vague familiarity of it didn’t connect until he saw Kenma following in Hinata’s blazing path, wearing a comparable costume.

Kenma’s head was downcast, and his focus was fixated on his handheld, but he wandered to Hinata’s side without conscious thought. Suga was surprised to see Kenma here, although it was clear that Hinata’s overzealous hype—and the promise of matching outfits—would’ve played a large factor in convincing him to attend.

Dressed as Ash Ketchum, Kenma was wearing his iconic Pokémon Master ensemble, complete with a blue jacket, loose-fitting jeans, green fingerless gloves, baseball cap and sneakers. And then, to reinforce the image of 90s nostalgia, Hinata stood at Kenma’s side as Ash’s own redheaded companion, Misty. Wearing high-waisted shorts with a crop top and red suspenders, he was the picture of a preppy, if slightly chilly, teenager with high-top sneakers and ruffled hair.

“Nice outfits,” Suga remarked, warm with the knowledge that Kenma’s social circle seemed intent on expanding.

“Thanks!” Kenma glanced sidewards at the abrupt burst of noise, although he returned to his game once he recognised it as Hinata’s own brand of sunny enthusiasm. “We asked Kageyama if he wanted to be Brock, but I don’t know if he’s coming.”

“What was this I hear about Tobio-chan?” Oikawa asked, stepping through the patio door him with a faux air of genial politeness. Trailing in Oikawa’s dramatic wake, Iwaizumi shut the door behind them, dressed in the somber splendour of Obi Wan Kenobi’s white robes that was a direct contrast to dark tones of Oikawa’s Anakin Skywalker-inspired outfit.

Suga’s gaze seemed drawn to Oikawa’s exposed neck, but he felt heat flood his cheeks after the realisation he was looking for marks of Iwaizumi’s attention. His hand went to his own neck, and for an odd, startling moment, Daichi flashed through Suga’s mind, and then he imagined the ghost-like imprint of teeth there, and Daichi’s breath hot in his ear.

Obvious to Suga’s inner turmoil, Hinata asked, “You did invite Kageyama, right Oikawa-san?”

Preening at the use of honorifics—Hinata had recently moved to America from Japan, and had yet to lose the custom—Oikawa smiled, a white flash of forced ease. “I’m sure his invitation was just lost in the mail.”

“But you invited everyone in the group chat for our volleyball team,” Hinata said, frowning.

Hooking an arm over Oikawa’s shoulder, Iwaizumi spoke in a low tone that he reserved for teasing, “What was that you told me about his presence forever tarnishing this household?”

Oikawa glared at Iwaizumi, but didn’t move to escape his embrace, instead opting to lean closer.

“Oh, look!” Hinata pointed outside, to the approaching trio of people. “There he is!” Kageyama—wearing his volleyball uniform, for some reason—was flanked by Tanaka and Nishinoya’s, dressed as two obscure characters out of some kitschy martial arts movie.

Hinata tugged Kenma outside to meet the new arrivals, despite Kenma’s look of mild disapproval that he was jostled out of his gaming focus, and ignorant of Oikawa’s narrowed gaze.

“Don’t pout,” Iwaizumi said. “You’ll get premature wrinkles.” He kissed the side of Oikawa’s head in placation before dodging the latter’s swipe to his head and retreated to the safe space of the kitchen.

“I can’t believe him,” Oikawa huffed.

“Who?” Suga asked, still flushed under his guise of calm. To steady the rapid beat of his pulse, he repeated a mantra in his head— _ Do not think of Daichi kissing your neck, do not think of Daichi kissing your neck. _

“All of them.”

His laugh was a soft breath of air, and Suga came to regret that it was too quiet to mask the sound of his phone vibrating in his hand again.

“Who’s that?” Oikawa’s tone underwent a swift, dangerous change from simpering to curious.

“No one.”

“ _ Koushi _ .”

Suga sighed. “It’s Daichi.”

Oikawa grinned, elated to be granted a topic to discuss other than that of his genius  _ kouhai  _ or boyfriend. “The one whose picture you stared at during study hall for three days? With the—”

“Yes, it’s him,” Suga said, defeated.

It was true that Daichi had sent a picture of himself last week, and it had been an effective end to Suga’s perception of him as a faceless, grammatically-challenged if hilarious, weeaboo. Because Daichi was more than funny and accepting and warm, he was attractive too.

Swallowing, Suga’s throat was dry with the mere memory of Daichi’s bare, tanned skin and obvious muscle-bound frame. It was an unassuming photo of someone Suga would’ve found handsome in real life, enough so that it scared him. He was fortunate enough that Oikawa hadn’t been in the immediate vicinity to witness Suga’s stunned reaction.

The one thing he could take small relief in was that Daichi’s smile remained the same wide, honest grin it had been in the sidebar image of him cosplaying.

The doorbell rang, alerting Oikawa to the arrival of more guests, and signalling the abrupt—albeit convenient end—to their conversation. Oikawa seemed quick to forget he had been intent on coercing Suga to admit the feelings he had miserably tried to mask, and left to attend his guests with a flutter of dark fabric.

Suga pressed his lips together, exhaling, feeling gladdened that he had been granted the short-lived privacy to reply to Daichi.

**thighmaster1: suga????**

**thighmaster1: babydool ims orry come back!!**

**thighmaster1: DONT LEAVEE ME!!!!**

**thighmaster1: my sweet hoeny**

**thighmaster1: sugarplum**

**thighmaster1: assmaster**

_ sweetsuga: Sorry, I was ambushed by some party guests. _

_ sweetsuga: And Oikawa, who is nearly the equivalent of three people in terms of social pressure. _

**thighmaster1: the roaster nearly got u??**

_ sweetsuga: Yeah, I dodged a bullet on that one. _

_ sweetsuga: But the party’s about to start, so I probably won’t be able to reply until tomorrow. _

_ sweetsuga: щ _ _ （ﾟ _ _ Д _ _ ﾟ _ _ щ） _

_ sweetsuga: Talk later! _

**thighmaster1: mkay,, have a goodtime!!**

**thighmaster1: dont d anything i woudlnt do**

**thighmaster1: oh wait dats everything**

**thighmaster1: nvm have fun!!!**

Suga tucked his mobile into a drawer of Oikawa’s desk and had emptied his mind of all previous worries when he saw Kiyoko standing in the front hallway with Oikawa and Yachi. He smiled, opening his mouth to compliment Kiyoko’s near perfect appearance of an elegant geisha. He didn’t pay his mobile much heed until tomorrow, too preoccupied with refilling red solo cups with spiked punch and sharing amiable conversation with his peers between an ill-omened match of truth and dare that was close to lasting six hours before falling into a deep, undisturbed sleep.

The next morning, he awoke with a sour-tasting mouth but a clear head, and stumbled into the kitchen to guzzle a glass of water, or to taste something besides the faint tang of vodka and fruit punch. Suga was greeted to the sight of Iwaizumi’s back at the stove, and the smell of cooked breakfast—mouth-watering bacon, eggs and the like.

“Morning,” Suga mumbled, still fuzzy with fatigue.

Iwaizumi glanced over his shoulder, nodding at Suga in hello.

“Do you feel as dead as I do?” Tanaka asked, waving from his seat at the kitchen island as Suga slid in next to him. The movement shook Noya to groggy wakefulness on Tanaka’s other side, and he raised his head from where it had been stretched a treacherous distance over to rest against Tanaka’s arm. The pair of them were a picture of disorder, no doubt after last night’s antics.

“Not as bad,” Suga replied, sympathetic. “Who else is up?”

“Kiyoko drove Yachi home an hour ago,” Iwaizumi said without moving to turn around, “and I don’t think Hinata and Kageyama made it back from Kenma’s house late last night. Matsukawa and Hanamaki are passed the fuck out somewhere, and I told Oikawa to sleep for a bit longer.”

“Everyone else made it home safe last night?”

“Kindaichi and Kunimi texted me and said they’re okay, but I don’t have a fucking clue about where Kyoutani and Yahaba went.”

“I can’t even remember what happened with them last night,” Noya groaned, his chair scraping as he leaned further against Tanaka, who accepted his added weight without complaint.

“Weren’t they dared to kiss?” Suga prompted.

“No,” Iwaizumi said, “they were dared to wear each other’s costumes first. Then to hold hands for five minutes, then to kiss for more than ten seconds, and then to use tongue.”

“I think Kyoutani was more embarrassed by holding hands than kissing,” Noya mused.

“I think Kyoutani was more embarrassed he had to share physical contact with someone he had been flirting with via long, unbroken stares and sullen silences.” Suga rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his stomach growling as he was roused to molasses-slow alertness.

“Then Kyoutani stormed out, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, and Yahaba went after him,” Tanaka mumbled, twirling his spoon in a bowl of bland cereal. His brow creased, and he opened his mouth to speak. “We voted on best costume then, right?”

Suga snorted in a rare display of indelicate behaviour, remembering the unanimous outcome of whose costumes had been deemed the most creative. “I can’t believe that Hanamaki and Matsukawa won.”

“What were they dressed as again?” Noya leaned forward over the counter to meet Suga’s gaze.

“They were dressed as Oikawa and Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi grunted, which Suga surmised was a neutral response, despite recalling Oikawa’s proclamation of a rigged competition last night. At least Kageyama had left with Hinata and Kenma then, or Suga was confident that Oikawa’s drunken stupor would’ve led to a more aggressive approach than simply glaring at his teammates from Iwaizumi’s lap. He had staked his pride in the painstaking lengths he had taken to create a nearly identical costume to Anakin Skywalker’s, is all.

“There was something else, wasn’t there?”

Tanaka, grinned elbowing Noya in the side. “You sent a dick pic to your Snapchat boyfriend.”

“No,” Noya said, his smile quick and wicked, “before that.”

“Oh, I remember! Suga went to the bathroom and Oikawa—”

Clamping a hand over Tanaka’s mouth, Noya glanced at Suga in apprehension, guilt lining his sharp features. Tanaka seemed to sober considerably, and pulling Noya’s hand away and opening his mouth just when Iwaizumi turned, his expression murderous.

“What did Oikawa do?” Iwaizumi asked with a death-like serious.

“He…” Noya looked sheepish, but he answered nonetheless, “He was dared to steal Suga’s phone and talk to that guy he’s been messaging online.”

Both Iwaizumi and Suga were determinedly moving towards Oikawa’s bedroom the moment Noya had finished his admission. Reaching for the doorknob, Iwaizumi pushed Suga’s gentle hand aside to burst into the room, startling Oikawa to a large-eyed, blinking wakefulness.

“What?” Oikawa squawked, pulling the covers up around his chest.

“You’re going to apologise to Suga right now, Trashykawa,” Iwaizumi bit out, pulling Oikawa out of bed in an unceremonious fashion.

“What for?”

“Fucking meddling.”

Oikawa was primed to argue, but then he paused, blanching as he glanced at the mobile resting on his bedside table—it was Suga’s phone. Feeling his heartbeat spike at the implication Oikawa had spoken unsupervised to Daichi under the direct influence of alcohol, Suga had retrieved his mobile and opened his Tumblr messenger in no less than four seconds.

_ sweetsuga: Daichi-sannnnnnnnnn _

_ sweetsuga: You like me,don’t yiu??? _

**thighmaster1: ur drunk suga,, go home**

**thighmaster1: my little boys growi ng up :’)**

_ sweetsuga: But you Do you like me, right? _

**thighmaster1: yeah mate**

_ sweetsuga: Like-like me?? _

_ sweetsuga: Like a boyrined? _

_ sweetsuga: You want to meet me’/? _

**thighmaster1: go drikn some water suga**

**thighmaster1: otherwise ur probs gonna call th e police by accident t**

_ sweetsuga: NO!!!! _

_ sweetsuga: I wann call u tho.. Can i _

_ sweetsuga: Call you? _

**thighmaster1: nah man itd cost too much**

**thighmaster1: plus u wont rememeber this at all**

_ sweetsuga: I would _

_ sweetsuga: I’dc call you _

_ sweetsuga: Id date you to _

_ sweetsuga: But I have a boryfriend so _

**thighmaster1: okay**

**thighmaster1: um suga my dads calingme**

**thighmaster1: im gonna go**

_ sweetsuga: But nno we were going to call/!! _

_ sweetsuga: Daichi come back _

_ sweetsuga: Dachiiiiiiiiiiiiii _

_ sweetsuga: Whats your numver?? _

_ sweetsuga: Daichi ic ant call you _

_ sweetsuga: I want ot see yiu _

Suga ran a hand through his hair, too tired to process or anticipate the complete damage Oikawa had dealt. He knew—no, he  _ hoped _ —Daichi would believe Oikawa had been the one to message him, and that he wouldn’t be dissuaded from conversing further after an awkward, stilted apology.

Suga and Daichi hadn’t made any promises to each other, and they weren’t in any type of established relationship beyond friends, but maybe Suga wanted to be, and Daichi might want to be too. And if Daichi thought he had deliberately avoided telling him about having a boyfriend, it made Suga seem like he was stringing him along, or he had a secret agenda—or worse.

_ sweetsuga: I’m so sorry, Daichi! _

_ sweetsuga: Oikawa was dared to talk to you last night and I didn’t realise he had taken my phone until now. _

_ sweetsuga: And he can be a real handful when he’s drunk and Iwaizumi wasn’t with him and it’s all just a mess and I’m just really, truly sorry! _

Looking up from his phone, Suga found he was thankful that Iwaizumi had dragged Oikawa out of the room beforehand to offer some semblance of privacy. It would’ve been unbearable to face Iwaizumi and Oikawa for more than a few humiliating moments. He fled the room, needing to ground himself, and returned to the kitchen, which was a tense affair.

Tanaka and Noya were both eating their cereal with an uncommon diligence, and opposite them on the kitchen island, Iwaizumi was glaring at the two prepared breakfast plates. Oikawa was standing forlorn a fair distance from Iwaizumi, the blanket huddled around him, staring at the two plates—Iwaizumi had been making breakfast for them both.

Oikawa turned at Suga’s arrival, his expression unguarded. “Koushi, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t—” He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, almost harried. “I’m sorry.”

Suga felt his anger rise, but when he looked at Oikawa, the emotion soon faded. Because, if Suga hadn’t known Oikawa so well, he might’ve failed to notice how close to crying he was. He had never been someone who had promoted conflict, and Suga understood that Oikawa had already accepted the blame for his mistake. There was no use in holding onto grudges.

“It’s okay, Oikawa,” Suga said, noticing how the kitchen’s other occupants seemed shocked at his ready forgiveness. “Just… Don’t do it again, alright?”

“Yeah, I know. I won’t.” Oikawa seemed to deflate, the weight of tiredness and apprehension bending his spine, dulling his eyes.

Armed with a weak smile, Suga slid back into his previous seat beside Tanaka, murmuring his thanks as the latter poured him a bowl of cereal and Noya pushed his glass of orange juice over. He spooned the sodden, nutritional flakes into his mouth, watching his mobile remain unmoved and silent on the marble benchtop.

After a few fragile moments, Oikawa stepped further into the kitchen with a tentative vulnerability. Judging by the tense line of Iwaizumi’s back, he knew Oikawa had moved toward him, but he refused to acknowledge the action. Seeming to gather the last remnants of whatever courage he had left, Oikawa strode forward and slid his arms around Iwaizumi from behind, holding onto him with a tight desperation.

It seemed probable that Iwaizumi would shove Oikawa away, and they’d both stew in waning anger and regret for a few days before reconciling, but, Suga knew he shouldn’t have doubted Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s long-held devotion to each other. Not now—after enduring the whole thing with Iwaizumi’s parents and the school’s initial disapproval to emerge one of the happiest couples Suga could recall.

Because, soon Iwaizumi patted Oikawa’s hand where it rested on his stomach in reassurance, and then reached back to ruffle Oikawa’s hair good-naturedly, whispering something Suga couldn’t hear. Oikawa closed his eyes, nuzzling into Iwaizumi’s neck with a slight shake of his shoulders, and Suga knew then that they would be fine—he had no reason to think otherwise.

From their side of the kitchen island, all three of them seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

**thighmaster1: suga its finde dude**

**thighmaster1: and im sure ud type perfectly when tipshy anways**

**thighmaster1: u shoudl hear about the stuff i do drunk tho**

_ sweetsuga: You’re not angry? _

**thighmaster1: fuck non**

**thighmaster1: it was a mistaake**

**thighmaster1: like once i punched kuroo when we re durnk**

**thighmaster1: and then i backedmy mums ute into a tree**

**thighmaster1: shit happens bby**

**thighmaster1: ~firgive and forget~**

**thighmaster1: so u wanna hear abuot the time me nd the guys convinced asahi to do shots??**

**thighmaster1: jesus got *grand theft auto voiuce* WASTED**

Suga was smiling, pausing as he erased his automatic response to something lighter, more akin to banter, but he was sure the message was unspoken— _ Thank you, Daichi. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick heads up, this chapter just marks the point in the fic where suga and daichi start developing serious ~feelings~ and everything that comes with pursuing an online relationship, but I TAKE MY PLEDGE AS A WORDSMITH to ensure this remains cute. and fluffy. 
> 
> also, i couldn't add this in the story but kageyama came dressed in his volleyball uniform because he was "team spirit", and then kyoutani was only convinced to attend the party because he thought it'd give him a chance to arm-wrestle iwa-chan. and i felt a mighty need to write a little short companion piece of oikawa making it up to iwaizumi after this chapter (╭☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )╭☞ by doing nsfw things (╭☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )╭☞ so hmu if u wanna read that (╭☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )╭☞


	8. Do I Look Like A Ditchable Prom Date To You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **thighmaster1: yo so im bokutos Bae but lik e**
> 
> **thighmaster1: if he doesnt fucking ask akkashi 2 the prom then im supporting the latter**
> 
> _sweetsuga: Support your friends awkward teenage romance, Daichi._

**thighmaster1: did u**

**thighmaster1: did u send ti yet???**

**thighmaster1: is it sneding’??????**

**thighmaster1: sugA I AM EXCITE**

_sweetsuga: Give it a few seconds. It’s sending._

**Thighmaster1: do, or do not,, there is no TRY -yoda2k16**

**thighmaster1: but okay i want like eighte nn diffreent angles**

**thighmaster1: differnt lighting,, different effects**

**thighmaster1: i  have waited too lo ng for this**

_sweetsuga sent a photo._

Lounging on one of his deck chairs outside, Daichi sat up, focusing his full attention on his phone. Because—that was Suga, wrapped up tight in white fabric, the crop top revealing a smooth expanse of unblemished skin around his waist. His pale complexion was offset by the off-white outfit, and the silver cuffs clamped around his biceps.

Daichi shook his head, hoping to dispel his mind of roving thoughts of slim waistlines and pretty smiles, instead focusing on Suga’s pictured friends. Or, well, those who were dressed as the remainder of his space adventuring entourage. One of Suga’s arms slung around an equally inebriated lanky brunette clad in black robes, whose stability seemed to hinge on another guy at his side, a stocky bloke wearing Obi Wan’s characteristic frown, looking the most sober of the three.

Despite how Suga’s smile seemed a little fuzzy around the edges, and how one of his pant legs was dark with a stain of sloshed beer or punch or whatever Yankees drunk, Daichi stared. Yes, he had seen his selfies before—Daichi had discovered Suga had a beauty mark, a perfect imperfection painted high on his right cheek—but Suga was unbound here, so without constraints or pretence.

For a moment, it made Daichi jealous that his friends could see Suga at their leisure, without having to justify their relationship. But the emotion soon faded, because it was useless to think that Daichi had to fight for something he already knew was tangible, that could transcend the boundaries of the internet.

_sweetsuga sent a photo._

His brow creasing, Daichi waited for the photo to load, and then laughed outright.

**thighmaster1: I AM SHOOK 2 MYY CORE**

**thighmaster1: i was prepared for u lookin migh ty fine in dat costume**

**thighmaster1: /anD YET/**

**thighmaster1: U SNED ME UR ASS**

**thighmaster1:** **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

_sweetsuga: Did it live up to your expectations?_

**thighmaster1: by “”it” u mena ur sweet booty**

**thighmaster1: then yeet**

_sweetsuga:_ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

_sweetsuga: My ass is #blessed._

**thighmaster1: tru tr u**

**thighmaster1: I woul  d pay tribute to dt ass**

**thighmaster1: look ai cant tuype im so SHOOOK UP**

_sweetsuga: I’d like to take this moment to thank my parents, my friends, and everyone’s who supported my ass’s career thus far. I couldn’t have made it without you all!_

_sweetsuga: Also, a special thanks to Oikawa for helping me achieve the perfect ass through rigorous training, and then aiding me in taking the perfect photograph to highlight said ass._

**thighmaster1: boi did the roaster seriously  take a pic of ur ass??**

**thighmaster1: I MSUT FIGHT ME**

**thighmaster1: I EMAN HIM**

**thighmaster1: motherfuccKER AINT TOUCHING WAHTS MINE**

_sweetsuga: No, Oikawa just offered, but all I needed was a full length mirror and tight shorts._

**thighmaster1: A Full length mirror and Tight SHorts~~ title of our sex tape**

_sweetsuga: Wait, that sounds weird._

_sweetsuga: Lord what have I done._

**thighmaster1: believe it!!**

**thighmaster1: I nedda use more star wars-themed refercnes wait**

_sweetsuga: Dadchi, no._

**thighmaster1: the force is strong with this ass**

**thighmaster1: help me suga wna kenobi,, ur my only hope of a good sex tape**

**thighmaster1: good call,,,, my young padawan assmastr**

_sweetsuga: I think I miss the endless stream of Naruto references now._

**thighmaster1: *han solo voice* i love u(r ass)**

**thighmaster1: leia voice* i  know**

**thighmaster1: now for a litt le the force awakens~~**

_sweetsuga: *Han Solo voice* that’s not how sexting works!_

**thighmaster1: :O to ;)**

**thighmaster1: //whoa bud dy**

**thighmaster1: did u just proposition me??**

**thighmaster1: sug a i am,,, at a loss 4 words**

**thighmaster1: here lemme sext u right~~**

_sweetsuga: If you send me a dick pic I am never speaking to you again._

**thighmaster1: <==3**

**thighmaster1: IT S A TRAP!!**

_sweetsuga: Friendship: Terminated._

**thighmaster1: com eback !!**

**thighmaster1: pls suga i need u bby!!!!**

**thighmaster1: dont leave me D::**

**thighmaster1: wait~~ i know whatll make u stay.**

_sweetsuga: …_

_sweetsuga: You have my attention._

**thighmaster1: so last week asahi got a dick pic**

_sweetsuga:_ ( ﾟдﾟ)

**thighmaster1: i know,, i know.,, exciting stuff**

**thighmaster1: but the thing is like~~**

**thighmaster1: ASAHI FUCCKING P ANICKED**

**thighmaster1: AND HE SCREENSHOT**

**thighmaster1: nd now he has a screenshhot o his baes  dick**

**thighmaster1: and hes too scared to go into his gllaery to delete it**

**thighmaster1: & he asked me to go do it ://**

**thighmaster1: like yeha nah mate its ur dudes dick u doit**

_sweetsuga: Asahi Christ._

_sweetsuga: Okay, that story was worth me redeeming you._

**thighmaster1: /back up**

**thighmaster1: did u just**

**thighmaster1: omg wha t INT HE FUCK**

**thighmaster1:  how havee i never thought o that before??? asahi/jesus christ???**

**thighmaster1: okay u win,, ten points to gryfiindor**

“Daichi, where are you?” A familiar voice floated around from the front of the house, accompanied by the clatter of claws on the pavement.

“I’m here, Akaashi!”

Soon enough, Akaashi rounded the corner of the house, at least three of Daichi’s dogs trotting behind him. Unlike his usual pristine school uniform, he wore casual, loose-fitting shorts and a grey shirt, a water bottle hanging at his side.

**thighmaster1: gimem a sec**

“Am I late?’ Akaashi asked, his gaze sweeping across Daichi’s empty backyard.

With Kuroo’s assistance, Daichi had developed this brilliant plan of sorting out the whole Bokuto-Akaashi debacle under the guise of a friendly practise volleyball match at Daichi’s place. His backyard was large enough to string up a volleyball net he had received for his birthday, and usually, he and Asahi used it most weekends, or Daichi sometimes invited the whole team over.

Well, in this case, he did, in fact, invite the whole team over—but they planned on only Akaashi and Bokuto to arrive an hour early.

“No, you’re not late,” Daichi said, casual, “Bokuto’s here anyway.”

Akaashi looked at Daichi, his gaze widening, although he acted quickly to mask his immediate reaction. “Is everyone else still coming?” Daichi couldn’t remember a time Akaashi had been unsettled, or nervous, but he thought he heard Akaashi’s voice waver.

“They should—”

“All I could find was Doritos, like who in the fuck only buys Doritos when—” Bokuto stopped at the threshold to Daichi’s veranda, a bag of chips hanging from his mouth and scuffed volleyball tucked under his arm. His head swung from Daichi to Akaashi, and—the bag dropped, Bokuto only narrowly managed to catch it.

“Hi, Bokuto.” Akaashi crossed an arm over his chest, holding his elbow.

“Hey, Akaashi.”

“You guys wanna start?” Daichi asked, hoping this wouldn’t continue to be so fucking weird.

Bokuto’s gaze moved to Daichi as an afterthought, his pensive frown easing. His shoulders lifted as he remembered he was here to play volleyball, which was something he excelled at, rather than his pitiful attempt to repair his relationship with Akaashi. Daichi hadn’t known what had happened, but it was disrupting his free periods and his teammate’s collective training sessions.

“Akaashi, can you set for Bokuto? I need to say goodbye to someone online,” Daichi said, holding his phone up as proof. If Daichi was fortunate, and Akaashi wouldn’t figure out what he was doing, the latter and Bokuto would have enough opportunity to sort their shit out in a little one-on-one.

After a beat of hesitancy, Akaashi stepped forward to set his water bottle down on the table. “Okay.”

Following Akaashi onto the lawn, to the volleyball net, Bokuto seemed to have forgotten he was holding Doritos until he flung them in Daichi’s direction. He turned back to Akaashi with an obvious uncertainty, but his stance relaxed when Akaashi carefully transferred the volleyball from Bokuto’s arms to his hands and started to run through a practise regime.

Daichi hurried inside, opening his Tumblr messenger as he surreptitiously looked through a window outside.

_sweetsuga: What happened?_

**thighmaster1: 2 of my friends re crushing on eahcother**

**thighmaster1: but theyre fucking idiot s**

**thighmaster1: so em & my mates intervend**

_sweetsuga: You sure that’s a good idea?_

_sweetsuga: I mean, the last time that happened to me Oikawa messaged you drunk._

**thighmaster1: that’s kind a th e reason im doing this**

_sweetsuga: What?_

**thighmaster1: like,, so, we know oikawa fuccked up**

**thighmaster1: bUT we sorted it out pretty quick right??**

_sweetsuga: Yeah, even though Oikawa’s still making up for it._

**thighmaster1: still sucking his bf’s dick u mean YEHAH**

_sweetsuga:_ (≖︿≖✿)

**thighmaster1: okat moving on**

**thighmaster1: im sayig if we didnt talk it coudlve been bad??**

**thighmaster1: ibut u told me it was oiakwa being a dickhead and i understood that????**

**thighmaster1: its all bout dat /communication/**

_sweetsuga: So, you want them to talk to each other rather than avoid the subject?_

**thighmaster1: yeet ueet motherfucker**

**thighmaster1: and i mena Bokuto thinks akkashi is perfect**

**thighmaster1: & akaashi still doenst have a date to prom so..**

_sweetsuga: Oh my god, Akaashi was waiting for Bokuto to ask him?_

_sweetsuga: That’s so cute!_

**thighmaster1: its not when bokuto is afucking idiot**

**thighmaster1: nah hes not I love him :’)))**

_sweetsuga: Tell me what’s happening I’m invested now._

**thighmaster1: they playin v-ball in my backyad**

**thighmaster1: akaashi is setting the ball,,, and bokuto is spiking**

**thighmaster1: ://**

**thighmaster1: heh at least their talking**

_sweetsuga: *They’re._

**thighmaster1: fuck  off**

**thighmaster1: yo so im bokutos Bae but lik e**

**thighmaster1: if he doesnt fucking ask akkashi 2 the prom then im supporting the latter**

_sweetsuga: Support your friends awkward teenage romance, Daichi._

_sweetsuga: Hey, I was wondering…_

_sweetsuga: Do you have a date to prom?_

**thighmaster1: yeha boi**

**thighmaster1: im goig with a hottie**

_sweetsuga: Oh._

_sweetsuga: Okay._

**thighmaster1: thats if we can find asahi a suit**

**thighmaster1: otherwise hes a sasquatch in a tie**

**thighmaster1: but a FACNY PANTSY sasquatch**

_sweetsuga: You’re going with Asahi? That’s great!_

**thighmaster1: yepperdoodle**

**thighmaster1: sicne hes dedicate d to hiws snapchat bae**

**thighmaster1: and eveyrones to scared to ask him becauses hes so tall and bearded**

**thighmaster1: those rebel scum >:((**

**thighmaster1: and hes not dirnking anyway so I can get //hammered/**

Daichi’s attention had meandered between Suga and the burgeoning romance on his lawn for the past several minutes, but now it was firmly fixed on the latter. At some point, their conversation must’ve shifted from the harmless subject of volleyball to something more serious. Something that made Bokuto’s head hang and his shoulders droop, causing Akaashi to reach out in an aborted gesture, caught between awkward and hopeful.

**thighmaster1: HOLD,, YUP**

**thighmaster1: THEY STOPPED**

**thighmaster1: HTYE TALKING**

_sweetsuga: Be my eyes and ears, Dadchi._

_sweetsuga: I live through you._

_sweetsuga:_ (●´ω｀●)

**thighmaster1: bokuto jus t said somethnig**

**thighmaster1: akaashis shaking his hed  and sayung something back**

**thighmaster1: oh hotdamn bokuto just teh fuck froze up**

**thighmaster1: *froe the fuck p**

**thighmaster1: fcuk it u know wha ti mean**

**thighmaster1: oh wwait something happenin!!**

There was a moment when both of them seemed to stop talking, and Akaashi gaze drifted upwards to find Bokuto. The two of them stood in tense silence, Akaashi’s tongue running over the indent of teeth in his bottom lip and Bokuto juggling the volleyball in his hands to channel his nerves, before freefalling into an explosion of noise and movement.

The ball hadn’t even made contact with the ground when Bokuto lunged forward, hands wrapping around Akaashi’s waist and hauling him up, up, up. Akaashi gripped onto Bokuto’s shoulders in a ginger hold, but when Bokuto was shouting, loud and triumphant, Daichi witnessed something else—something that made him believe Akaashi was just as excited.

Daichi had seldom seen Akaashi’s react without logical thought, but his natural response suggested such genuine, unguarded emotion that Daichi was stunned. Akaashi was smiling so hard, so bright, that his eyes were crinkled. A cry of startled surprise filtered inside, followed by delighted laughter, fitting to the happy curve of Akaashi’s mouth. Daichi had to take a moment to process—because Bokuto was twirling Akaashi around on his backyard, and they were laughing.

Then, once their respective glee had faded, Daichi noted the change in Akaashi’s expression over Bokuto’s shoulder, easing into something intimate. Bokuto lowered Akaashi to the ground, their bodies pressed so close together Akaashi’s shirt rode up to reveal a strip of skin above his waistband.

**thighmaster1: fuck its like the notebook up in here**

**thighmaster1: or dirty dnacing**

_sweetsuga: I need visual imagery._

**thighmaster1: bokuto pciked akaashi up  and they were giggling an dshit**

**thighmaster1: then he was slding akashi down rela slow**

**thighmaster1: lik e pactrick swazy sexy when he puts babby down from th elift**

_sweetsuga:_ (｡♥‿♥｡)

_sweetsuga: You need to keep watching now I’m rooting for them!_

Glancing up from his phone, Daichi was quick to wish he hadn’t. Bokuto’s hands were resting broad and encompassing on Akaashi’s lower back, and Akaashi’s arms were curled loosely over Bokuto’s shoulders, a hand sliding through his silver hair.

**thighmaster1: oh godd**

_sweetsuga: What? Tell me!_

**thighmaster1: u  thirsty 4 the gossip**

**thighmaster1: okay yep wiat a secc**

Bokuto dipped his head, his lips brushing Akaashi’s in a fleeting moment of innocent adoration that made Daichi feel uncomfortable to watch, like he was intruding. And when Akaashi moved to return Bokuto’s hesitant kiss with increased fervour, Daichi did pull back from the window, offering the couple long-overdue privacy.

**thighmaster1: they kissed**

_sweetsuga: I smell OTP material._

**thighmaster1: b rah**

**thighmaster1: i feel u~~**

**thighmaster1: nothin liek us tho amirite??**

_sweetsuga: Honey._

_sweetsuga: With my ass and your thighs, nothing can compare._

_sweetsuga sent a photo_

**thighmaster1: can U STOP 4REALZ**

**thighmaster1: PLS**

**thighmaster1: ur ass in ti ghts is somehting I willnot forget :’)))**

**thighmaster1: tis a nice colour on u**

**thighmaster1: wi at all colours look ggood on u**

_sweetsuga: Beauty is a curse…_

_sweetsuga: And I’ve got it._

**thighmaster1: tru trU**

**thighmaster1: u look cute todayt hto**

_sweetsuga: I was literally just wearing tights and an old, white T-shirt I sleep in._

_sweetsuga: And I haven’t had a shower yet because Walt jumped up on my lap and I didn’t have the heart to push him off until now and it’s 2am._

_sweetsuga: This is not the face of cute._

**thighmaster1: coudlve fooled me <3**

**thighmaster1 sent a photo**

_sweetsuga: Can we just settle on agreeing that you look good in singlets?_

**thighmaster1: u missed my cap hat!!**

**thighmaster1: baseball cap whatever,,  etc**

_sweetsuga: Oh, Mister Daichi, I swoon at the sight of your hat brim._

_sweetsuga: Lord have mercy on my soul!_

**thighmaster1: bby pls**

**thighmaster1: i gotta deal withu being fuckking cute**

**thighmaster1: lord help me on th at one**

_sweetsuga: Are we flirting?_

**thighmaster1: heck yeAHH**

**thighmaster1: I forgot 2 say but**

**thighmaster1: if  u were going id ask u 2 the prom**

_sweetsuga: Oh, well… I feel the same._

_sweetsuga: If the I was in the same situation, I mean. With the prom and everything._

_sweetsuga: I would’ve said yes, by the way. I would’ve happily gone with you._

A hand resting on his sternum, Daichi felt a familiar pang. It was the same feeling he experienced whenever he woke up and his mother was already working halfway across the state, a pale imitation of the emotion his Dad must also feel. It was longing—an affection fostered in separation.

But, the cause of Daichi’s heartache was Suga, someone he knew through a strong of messages and a few scattered photos. So, how could he pine for someone he hadn’t met?

How could he feel something so vivid and tangible for someone who existed in a virtual world?

**thighmaster1: suga?**

_sweetsuga: Yeah? What’s up?_

Daichi surmised that Suga might not understand the true meaning of his words, but he didn’t think he would have the courage to confirm if Suga’s feelings were mutual or not. At least—not yet. Online relationships were complicated, often disregarded as disillusioned fantasies, but connecting with someone over the wide scope of the internet bore a significance unlike no other bond. It was special.

**thighmaster1: i think i really like u**

_sweetsuga: I think I really like you too_.

And, right now, that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, firstly, soz for the late update i was on a short holiday but i hope this makes up for it!! DAICHI WAS BOUT TO DO IT AND HE DID IT WHATTUP!! and i wrote the iwaoi smut!! read it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8620804)!
> 
> also dat bokuaka tho ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) i am healed ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) and whoever gets the title reference wins a prize ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	9. A Little Tom Jones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _sweetsuga: I’m worried._
> 
> _sweetsuga: Please talk to me._
> 
> **thighmaster1: no**

**thighmaster1: suga? you awake?**

The first thing Suga noticed when Daichi messaged him was the time. Suga was accustomed to receiving Daichi’s rambling, nonsensical strings of words in the morning before school, or his slew of Naruto references or complaints at waking up before _goddamn fucking nine_ when Suga returned home in the late afternoon. He never expected Daichi to message him at midday when Suga knew it was late in Australia.

The second telling thing was Daichi’s uncommon use of near proper grammar and spelling. There was no excess of exclamation points, no updates on the surplus of seasonal anime he was watching, no plea for another picture of Suga’s ass in different lighting/pants/camera angle.

**thighmaster1: oh wait timezones fuck**

**thighmaster1: u have school too dammit**

Suga did have school, but he had forty-three minutes left of study hall to spare, and annotations on his dog-eared copy of George Orwell’s _1984_ could wait. Because Daichi had finished his exams a few weeks ago, and he had proclaimed to be catching up on a year’s worth of sleepless, stress-laden nights—so why was he messaging Suga now?

**thighmaster1: sorry just forget it**

And the third thing Suga noticed was that Daichi—the boy he liked, the boy he wanted to meet so much it ached—wasn’t himself.

_sweetsuga: It’s okay, I have study hall so I can talk._

**thighmaster1: nah man**

**thighmaster1: u don’t need this now**

_sweetsuga: I’m worried._

_sweetsuga: Please talk to me._

**thighmaster1: no**

**thighmaster1: i mean don’t worry man**

**thighmaster1: it doesn’t matter**

_sweetsuga: It does, Daichi._

_sweetsuga: I care about you._

Suga stared at his Mac screen, his chest pounding a staccato beat of fear. After a few moments, his thoughts spiralled, speeding towards the looming worries about things that were out of his realm—or hemisphere—of fixing. Because, despite liking Daichi, and wanting to be with him, Suga couldn’t support nor comfort him in the physical sense.

Minutes passed, and Suga’s foot bounced in apprehension underneath the desk. Out of fear of being caught red-handed, he opened a half-finished Chemistry assignment and feigned miserable interest in working on it. Time stalled, slow and tedious, and Daichi still hadn’t replied.

Suga wished for a distraction, for someone to be at his side—for Oikawa twirling a pen around his fingers, or even Iwaizumi scrawling a furious line of words into his notebook. Even Kyoutani’s sullen glaring at Yahaba’s childish doodles in the margins of mostly blank pages would suffice.

However, Daichi replied before Suga’s thoughts freefell into complete unsettlement.

**thighmaster1: its just**

**thighmaster1: i don’t know what to fucking do**

_sweetsuga: About what?_

**thighmaster1: my atar results come out tomorrow**

**thighmaster1: well fuck actually today in like 4 hours**

**thighmaster1: and i didn’t give a shit about them all year**

**thighmaster1: but i need a good score to get into my course**

_sweetsuga: Weren’t you taking a gap year?_

**thighmaster1: yeah but**

**thighmaster1: i think i decided to have one just so i could put off uni**

**thighmaster1: like physiotherapy was always what I’d said i’d do**

**thighmaster1: but i have no real fucking clue what i want to do**

_sweetsuga: Your parents would support you no matter what._

_sweetsuga: And from what you’ve told me, Australia seems a lot more lenient towards not committing to college after graduating._

**thighmaster1: i fucking know alright**

**thighmaster1: sorry**

**thighmaster1: i didn’t mean it like that**

_sweetsuga: It’s fine, Daichi._

**thighmaster1: like ur being all nice and reassuring and im**

**thighmaster1: im just a fucking mess here trying not to cry at 4am and wake my parents up**

**thighmaster1: also look im not making any typos thats how serious it is**

_sweetsuga: You’re allowed to cry._

_sweetsuga: You’re allowed to be angry or sad or ask me for help._

**thighmaster1: ugh don’t make me feel like this now im fucking crying here**

**thighmaster1: suga dammit i cant breathe**

**thighmaster1: what the fuck am i supposed to do**

**thighmaster1: like i know asahis gonna be here too but he doesn’t wanna leave our hometown**

**thighmaster1: and hes got his life perfectly mapped out like**

**thighmaster1: 1) open a wildlife shelter**

**thighmaster1: 2) propose to that guy hes been courting on snapchat for like 3 years**

**thighmaster1: he knows whats hes gonna do with his life**

**thighmaster1: and i just… i have no idea what i want**

_sweetsuga: It’s understandable to be scared, Daichi._

_sweetsuga: No one knows what they want to do right out of school._

_sweetsuga: Well, except Oikawa and Iwaizumi—but that’s a whole other story._

**thighmaster1: pls**

**thighmaster1: they probs wanna get fuckin married dont they**

_sweetsuga: That was… surprisingly accurate._

**thighmaster1: r u kidding ME???**

**thighmaster1: serIOUSUSLY?????**

_sweetsuga: Oikawa’s always joked about being married to Iwaizumi, and I’m pretty sure Iwaizumi’s been saving up for a ring ever since he moved in. He even asked my opinion on color and designs once._

**thighmaster1: heh~~~ gay**

_sweetsuga: That’s the whole point, Dadchi._

**thighmaster1: where u rekcon they gonna host teh shindig??**

_sweetsuga: Okay, ignoring the fact you said “shindig”, I’d say America still._

**thighmaster1: no beache s in hawaii? No big ole throowback 2 Japan?**

_sweetsuga: Trust me, Oikawa burns in the sun. He hates sand too. He’d be more concerned about how horrible he’d look in photographs rather than the fact he was marrying Iwaizumi. Divorce would be imminent._

_sweetsuga: And I think doing anything remotely traditional would remind Iwaizumi of his parents, and that would reap disaster._

_sweetsuga: So, America seems like the best bet, just maybe after scouting a location with a colder climate._

**thighmaster1: dude it sounds like ur the one marrying them**

_sweetsuga: Oikawa’s my best friend, but Iwaizumi is his. I can’t get one without the other._

**thighmaster1: joIN ME in the art o f thirdwheeling**

**thighmaster1: its fun i swaer**

**thighmaster1:  i have ccookies & the complte original naruto series :P**

_sweetsuga: I am wooed._

_sweetsuga: Datteboyo!_

**thighmaster1: belieeeve it**

_sweetsuga: We said it at the same time!_

**thighmaster1: ohohohoooo**

_sweetsuga: Am I shinobi enough for you now?_

**thighmaster1: #noice**

**thighmaster1: stoop interruptin me**

**thighmaster1: *sasuke voice* ur so anyying~~~**

_sweetsuga: Or what?_

**thighmaster1: boi dont te s t ME**

**thighmaster1: need i reemind u of my / thIGHS/**

**thighmaster1: ike ill go boxing 4 times a wek after vballs done**

**thighmaster1: plu s i benchpresssed bokuuto once**

_sweetsuga: You’ll benchpress me to death?_

**thighmaster1: nah mate like**

**thighmaster1: ill just wear these supershoet footy shorts and**

_sweetsuga: What, you’ll crush my skull between your legs?_

**thighmaster1: f ucK**

**thighmaster1: i had the worst visual iimage**

Suga’s chest tightened, an anxious vice constricting his lungs. Maybe he’d been premature in feeling relieved to have diverted Daichi’s train of thought to lighter, more heartening subject matter.

_sweetsuga: You okay?_

**thighmaster1: yeh just**

**thighmaster1: i thought that**

**thighmaster1: i tthought that iwouldn’t mind u being between my thigh s**

An embarrassed, hot flush ran deep through Suga, entirely inappropriate considering his current location. He was at school, he shouldn’t even entertain the idea of an unreachable fantasy. No—he shouldn’t imagine bending between the tanned flesh of Daichi’s thighs, the air heady with the scent of—

No, that was a road should not be travelled.

**thighmaster1: soRYYy that was to grpahic**

**thighmaster1: I D IDTN MEAN TO MAKE U UNOCMFORTABLE !!**

**thighmaster1: fogrgive me!!!**

_sweetsuga: No, it’s fine!_

_sweetsuga: I didn’t reply because I was uncomfortable._

_sweetsuga: The opposite, really._

**thighmaster1: oh**

**thighmaster1: o H**

**thighmaster1: suga its like 4am aand I defienitley wont be able to sleep now**

Suga propped his chin in his hand, fingers spread over his face to hide his reddening blush. It was true that he and Daichi hadn’t broached the subject of their mutual feelings for each other, but casual flirting hadn’t seemed like a dangerous prospect. Well, until now it hadn’t.

_sweetsuga: As much fun as this is, I’m in study hall._

_sweetsuga: Can we do this another time?_

Staring at his latest message in abject horror, Suga whispered, “ _Shit_.”

**thighmaster1: um**

**thighmaster1: yeah oka y**

_sweetsuga: I didn’t mean it like that!_

**thighmaster1: fuck okay alrght**

**thighmaster1:  ofcourse**

**thighmaster1: i didnt mean it loike that too**

**thighmaster1: ima MESS IM SOORRY**

**thighmaster1: just**

**thighmaster1: u know I like u suga??**

_sweetsuga: Yeah, I do._

_sweetsuga: You know I like you too?_

**thighmaster1: yepperdoodle**

**thighmaster1: so u know im fine wwith seeing where thus goes**

**thighmaster1: //ingoring the whole acciedntlal boners thing**

_sweetsuga: I was almost endeared. Almost._

**thighmaster1: bby u can turn me on~~**

**thighmaster1: wait no**

_sweetsuga:_ _（；￣д￣）_

**thighmaster1: soz before i was playing my fa vsong on repaeat to clam me down**

**thighmaster1: heh “clam me down”’ lolz**

**thighmaster1: but now I relaise it was the Wrong Choice**

_sweetsuga: What song?_

**thighmaster1: its my wedding song ;’)))**

_sweetsuga: Spit it out, Dadchi._

**thighmaster1: dont u mean swallow**

**thighmaster1:** **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

**thighmaster1: nah but its “”sex bomb” by tom jones**

**thighmaster1:  heck to the yehah**

**thighmaster1: wiat lemme rephrase that**

**thighmaster1: its Our WEDDDIN SONDG**

_sweetsuga: As much as I want to plan my future wedding to a kangaroo, study hall is finishing now, and I gotta leave._

_sweetsuga: When I get home I can tag you in posts to distract you, otherwise I would’ve sent you Snapchats through the day, but alas._

**thighmaster1: enlighten me on what ud send ;)))**

_sweetsuga: Me in this cute new shirt I bought, or Walt, or this killer highlight I did today._

**thighmaster1: the fuck u doin with highlihgtsers??**

_sweetsuga: It’s makeup, not a fluorescent pen._

**thighmaster1: tom jones save me from //THIS TORUTURE/**

**thighmaster1: if i imagine u in makeuo im dead**

**thighmaster1: sned me pics rn**

_sweetsuga: I had some on my Snapchat story, but it’ll take too long save them and then send them to you because I really need to go to lunch._

**thighmaster1: :(((**

**thighmaster1: u mmissed my snap story last week 2**

**thighmaster1:  me and the guys were playing twister w/david bowie blastin**

_sweetsuga: I’m packing up my stuff now but we need to exchange Snapchat names!_

_sweetsuga: Mine is the same as it is on Tumblr!_

During lunch, Suga spared a fleeting glance at Daichi’s incoming messages, content in the knowledge Daichi seemed more stable now. He learned Daichi’s Snapchat name was the same as his Tumblr URL too, and added him, his sudden insecurities causing him to contemplate sending a relatively safe Snapchat or not.

“That’s not even your good side,” Oikawa commented, his chin hooked over Suga’s shoulder.

Spluttering, Suga dropped his mobile into his lap, turning to glare at Oikawa. “I just want Daichi to know it’s me,” he said, defensive.

“So, you’re going to replace me on Snapchat too?”

“I doubt you’re going to lose the yellow heart to Daichi.”

“Now I’m a conquest for your Crocodile Dundee to overcome?”

“People who are easy can’t be constituted as a conquest, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi remarked, a forgotten presence on Oikawa’s opposite elbow.

Oikawa’s sharp gaze focused on Iwaizumi, his expression shifting from dire insult to a simpering smirk. Knocking his foot against Iwaizumi’s under the table playfully, Oikawa asked, “Iwa-chan, what’s your opinion on my best angle?”

“I like you on your back.”

Suga marvelled at the fact Iwaizumi didn’t even need to look up from his study material to make Oikawa blush, his infallible composure faltering for one breathtaking second.

The lunch bell trilled, the sound echoing in the high-ceilinged room. Suga was thankful for the escape, although it meant he was forced to wait until he finished school and arrived home to decide if his lunchtime Snapchat was worth sending. It wasn’t special, just a simple selfie of him at lunch, smiling with a cliché peace sign held against his cheek.

However, the driving force on him feeling confident enough to send it was the faint brush of gold dust over his cheekbones—he might not wear makeup often, but Suga had a weakness for good highlights. And Daichi had a weakness for Suga, so it seemed like an optimum choice.

Within a few tense minutes of waiting, Suga watched with unrestrained glee as Daichi opened his Snapchat, replayed, and then screenshot it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can say that the chapter title is inspired by the song used in this [ice skating routine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VHR0qjr79fQ) which was connected to this glorious [yuri on ice post](http://diggitydamnsebastianstan.tumblr.com/post/154062784933/demartinidesigns-someone-help-him-the-idea) like heck to the yeah. 
> 
> up next: asanoya is finally revealed.


	10. Everybody In The English-Speaking World Knows That Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _sweetsuga: Did you tell me Asahi’s boyfriend’s name?_
> 
> **thighmaster1: yeah its nishinoay??**

**thighmaster1: i cannot beliebve (it) rn**

**thighmaster1: theyre cuddlin**

**thighmaster1: in a restaurannt**

_sweetsuga: I don’t think McDonald’s constitutes as a restaurant._

**thighmaster1: xcuuuuuuuuse me s IR**

**thighmaster1: it’s a~~ fast foor restaruant**

_sweetsuga: Uh-huh._

**thighmaster1: donnt uhuh m e jackwad**

_sweetsuga: Don’t you think Jesus deserves a little romance?_

**thighmaster1: hes been romacing this guy for like,, years**

**thighmaster1: i just want t eat my big macc without thirdweheling**

_sweetsuga: You can pull a Gretchen Weiners to enjoy your burger in peace._

**thighmaster1: not wear my white gold eaarings??**

**thighmaster1: get my  dad 2 invent taoster strudel???**

_sweetsuga: “You can’t sit with us”?_

**thighmaster1: there iis no US**

**thighmaster1: THER EIS ME ND A BURGER**

**thighmaster1: ANDD I DONT WNANA BE ALONE**

_sweetsuga: It’s not that bad, is it?_

Daichi sighed. After a moment of deliberation, he glanced over at the couple sitting opposite him to gauge if his current experience third-wheeling was, in fact, that bad.

**thighmaster1: it s o fuckng is that bad**

Curled small into the space between the booth and the wall, Asahi’s boyfriend sitting cross-legged on the seat to face him, seeming to be transfixed with the blush spreading across Asahi’s cheeks. Daichi could do naught but assume that it had been an innuendo to make Asahi choke around the straw of his vanilla milkshake, hiding his face behind a cupped hand in embarrassment.

“Stop it,” Asahi whined. “Daichi’s right there.”

“I am right here,” Daichi agreed, a side of his mouth twisting wryly.

Asahi paled. “Did you hear what we said?”

His gaze flickering to Asahi’s boyfriend for a moment, Daichi smiled. “Dick joke?”

“Dick joke.” Asahi’s shoulders hunched forward in wide-eyed panic, which was a direct parallel to his significant other’s response—a sharp grin, and wilder eyes.

However, Asahi’s mortification was short-lived, because his boyfriend was leaning into his space in a span of a few seconds, a reassuring hand placed on his knee. Scrutinising the couple, Daichi took a bite from his lukewarm burger, unimpressed with the extent of which they bought new meaning to public displays of affection.

**thighmaster1: this si disgust ing**

**thighmaster1: make themmm //STOP/**

_sweetsuga: You do realize I’m best friends with Oikawa. Who tells me everything, with or without proper forewarning, usually in public places. Who’s known Iwaizumi intimately since he was fifteen._

**thighmaster1: oh u swet delicate flo wer :))**

**thighmaster1: id also,, love to know u,,. Intimately**

_sweetsuga: Smooth._

**thighmaster1: pls**

**thighmaster1: u know u wnat it**

_sweetsuga:（；_・）_

_sweetsuga: I’m tainted._

**thighmaster1:  becauselike me ur also,,,**

**thighmaster1: too gay 2 funciton**

**thighmaster1: Oh my gOD**

**thighmaster1: guess hwat just came on like the oevrhead radio?**

_sweetsuga: “_ _Niwaka Ame Nimo Makezu_ _” by NICO Touches The Walls?_

**thighmaster1: believe it!!**

**thighmaster1: nah save the flriting through the poewr of naruto for whem im alone pls**

**thighmaster1: it sbad enough  i wanna socilaise a little slice like u 24/7 & now I gotta scheduel it**

_sweetsuga:_ _(◠‿◠✿)_

**thighmaster1: yes ily too~~**

**thighmaster1: but the song playing is ,, jinglebell jungle bel jingle b el l r o c k**

**thighmaster1: CRHSITMAS WAS 4 DAHYS AGO chill my guys~~**

_sweetsuga: It’s a sign._

**thighmaster1: it wasnt a  sign that one time i wroe a vest**

_sweetsuga:_ _(ノД`)・゜・。_

**thighmaster1: yeet yeet motherufcker**

**thighmaster1: zomg asahis bf is singing 2 it**

**thighmaster1:  he kknows all the wrods**

**thighmaster1: this si what asahi gets fo r dating a yankeedoodle**

_sweetsuga: He’s American?_

**thighmaster1: as ur country tis free and patriotic**

**thighmaster1: nah hes actually japanese-murican**

**thighmaster1: oh also!!!**

**thighmaster1: i forgot to tel u 2 but like asahis bf is from vriginia too**

**thighmaster1: i was like *bokuto voice* hey heey hey**

**thighmaster1: me & jesus both kknow where the hot muricans are at**

**thighmaster1: ;)))**

_sweetsuga: Wait a minute._

_sweetsuga: Let’s take a step back._

**thighmaster1: what??**

**thighmaster1: //also i made a joke an du ignored it**

_sweetsuga: Did you tell me Asahi’s boyfriend’s name?_

**thighmaster1: yeah its nishinoay??**

**thighmaster1: *nishinoya**

_sweetsuga: Can you describe him to me?_

**thighmaster1: um okay**

**thighmaster1: hes smol & v. loud**

**thighmaster1: dudes got some serious jumping skillz**

**thighmaster1: liek he cn jump onto asahis ba ck**

**thighmaster1: ohh and he also ha s lieke a little blond fringe**

_sweetsuga: Can you send me a snapchat of him?_

_sweetsuga: Please send me one, I mean._

**thighmaster1: whyy are u so interested ??**

_sweetsuga: I just really need to what he looks like, Daichi._

_sweetsuga: Trust me, it’s important._

**thighmaster1: :|**

_sweetsuga: I promise I’ll tell you after you send the snapchat._

_sweetsuga: As compensation for your troubles I’ll send you a snapchat of me in those tight gray leggings I was telling you about._

**thighmaster1: :|**

_sweetsuga: I’ll use the best angle and lighting possible._

**thighmaster1: :|**

_sweetsuga: And I won’t wear my oversized cat T-shirt so this time you can actually see more than my gorgeous, toned thighs._

**thighmaster1: :)**

**thighmaster1: //next step is nudes**

**thighmaster1: but oMKAY ILL SNED THE SNA PNOW**

Daichi was forced to look up from his phone to the opposite side of the booth, where the couple was a couple inches of empty space from cuddling. Before, Asahi had looped a hesitant arm over Nishinoya’s shoulders, and now the latter had threaded his fingers with Asahi’s, swinging their conjoined hands back and forth. Daichi raised an eyebrow at the sight of Nishinoya’s legs thrown in a hazardous sprawl over Asahi’s lap, and Asahi ducked his head in lieu of answering, a blush deepening across his cheeks.

It was a better alternative to when Nishinoya had first arrived, but Daichi had still avoided looking in his best friend’s general direction for the past twenty minutes in fear of seeing Nishinoya _defiling_ Asahi further. Not that he wasn’t happy for Asahi, but it was weird to see him accept outward contact from another person—and like it.

“Hey, Nishinoya?” He asked.

“Yeah?” Nishinoya leaned forward when he spoke, his attention swinging from Asahi to Daichi in a wide, destructive arc.

“Do you mind if I send a snapchat of you to my friend?”

Asahi’s brow creased over the top of Nishinoya’s head, but he remained silent. “Sure!” Nishinoya exclaimed, grinning. He tucked Asahi’s arm closer to his chest so they were pressed even closer, bold and primed whereas Asahi flashed a nervous smile, and Daichi was quick to take their photograph.

“Thanks,” Daichi said, sending the snapchat to Suga in no less than three seconds. He halted, glancing upwards under the weight of Asahi’s gaze. “It’s not for something weird, I swear. Suga just wanted a pic for some reason.”

Although his expression remained dubious, Asahi was soon distracted as Nishinoya tugged on his sleeve to regain his attention. Daichi was grateful for the offered opportunity to hear Suga’s response, oblivious to Nishinoya’s question about who Suga was—and all that followed.

**thighmaster1: uget it??**

**thighmaster1: sugaaaaaaaaaaaaaaHAHH**

**thighmaster1: cmo n im invested now**

_sweetsuga: I’m._

_sweetsuga: Do you remember Noya, my friend? The libero in my volleyball team?_

**thighmaster1: vaguely yeha**

**thighmaster1: why ?**

_sweetsuga: Well, I never told you, but he has an online relationship with an Australian guy, too. It’s one of the reasons that made me feel comfortable in knowing that I liked you and that it could actually go somewhere._

**thighmaster1: ah bae <3**

**thighmaster1: *doki doki****

_sweetsuga: He was pretty secretive about the guy though, and I only saw his picture once or twice. But, anyway, Noya’s visiting his boyfriend in Australia over the Christmas break right now._

**thighmaster1: wiat**

**thighmaster1: are u twlling me**

_sweetsuga: Noya is a nickname, his full name is Nishinoya._

**thighmaster1: noya is nishinoay??**

**thighmaster1: are E u fuCKING KDIDING ME**

**thighmaster1: ARE U 4REALZ**

**thighmaster1: !!!**

**thighmaster1: I can tspeAK GOODAMN**

“Daichi,” Nishinoya said, pulling Daichi headfirst out of his stunned reverie. He was leaning across the table again, a panicked Asahi hovering at his elbow. “Can I ask you something weird?”

“I just—” Daichi stopped, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he tried to process the information.

“Are you in love with this dude on the internet who calls you Dadchi?”

Swallowing, Daichi lifted his chin to meet Noya’s gaze, startled at the sheer intensity of it. “Yeah, I do—” Daichi admitted. “Or, well, I like Suga. A lot. Like a whole fucking ton.”

It wasn’t real, it couldn't be—he wasn’t having this conversation, he wasn’t sitting here with one of Suga’s friends. Daichi wasn’t talking to someone who had seen Suga’s ass in that stupid hot Padmé Amidala costume.

Noya’s grin was exuberant, and he glanced over his shoulder at Asahi as if to share in his excitement. “I told you it was him! I can’t believe this is fucking happening.” He turned to Daichi again. “You’re Suga’s Daichi!”

“Is he as pretty in real life as he is in his selfies?” Daichi blurted.

Cocking his head to the side in birdlike curiosity, the side of Noya’s mouth twisted ruefully.

Realising what he had said, Daichi rushed to clarify, “I didn’t mean it like that—” He sighed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You _so_ meant it like that,” Noya said.

Pursing his mouth to stifle his laughter, Asahi wrapped a hand around Noya’s arm in a silent plea for him to abandon his quest to tease Daichi. “Want to go to the playground for a bit?” Asahi asked.

Despite his initial reluctance, Noya nodded, seeming to understand that Daichi needed a few minutes of solitude to stew in this fucking madness.

“Don’t eat my fries,” Noya warned as he climbed over Asahi and out of the booth, grabbing him by the hand and pulling the larger boy after him in an awkward tangle of limbs.

Daichi watched them go, smiling in fond amusement, before focusing on the phone in his hand.

_sweetsuga: Daichi?_

_sweetsuga:_ _You still here? Or have you left the plane of existence?_

**thighmaster1; im dead**

**thighmaster1: //gone/**

_sweetsuga: You’re telling me._

**thighmaster1: u coudvle come over with nishinoau nad we coudlve met!!**

_sweetsuga: Youre telling me!_

**thighmaster1: but ur boi noya is pretty alrught**

**thighmaster1: did u jsut make a typo ;)))**

_sweetsuga: I made no such grmamtical such error._

**thighmaster1:** **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

_sweetsuga: Moving on, yeah, Nishinoya is a good guy._ _Wild, but dependable._

_sweetsuga: Never would’ve expected him to fall in love with Jesus of all people._

**thighmaster1: do u th ink he woudl top?? or asahi? ?**

_sweetsuga: I already know every single detail of Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s sex life, and now you want me to discuss Asahi and Noya’s romantic interludes too?_

**thighmaster1: “interludes”” huh ??**

**thighmaster1: mkay shakespaear a ss bitch**

_sweetsuga: At least we know why Noya’s hair is so big now._

**thighmaster1: why ??**

_sweetsuga: It’s full of secrets._

**thighmaster1: u go glenn coco!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried a brand of beer called asahi last night and then had a maccas run ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) COINCIDENCE ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I THINK NOT ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> also who's up for another companion piece ft. asanoya smut???


	11. To Beat The Summer Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **thighmaster1: im botu ready to cry dammit**
> 
> _sweetsuga: Oh no._
> 
> _sweetsuga: Can you feel the virtual hug I’m sending your way right now?_
> 
> **thighmaster1: no donNOT TOUCH ME I N THS HEAT**

**thighmaster1: hel p**

**thighmaster1: its so godamn hot**

**thighmaster1: where i s kuroo & those fukcing slipperyy slams**

**thighmaster1: like I wanna hang out with my boyz before they go 2 uni @ feb but not at the price of dyring**

_sweetsuga: The slippery what?_

**thighmaster1: slippery slams**

**thighmaster1: dem icy poles in plastic sleaves???**

_sweetsuga: Oh, ice pops?_

**thighmaster1: how am i supposed to know**

**thighmaster1: ^^wowzers look at dat perfect fgrammar**

_sweetsuga: Truly amazing. A moment for the ages._

**thighmaster1: -.-**

**thighmaster1: bitch pls**

**thighmaster1: so whats u r favcolour slipper y slam??**

_sweetsuga: *Color._

**thighmaster1: boi**

**thighmaster1: fuc k off**

**thighmaster1: off teh fuck**

**thighmaster1: fuck the m e**

_sweetsuga: Does the heat always make you ramble like this?_

**thighmaster1: kiddo lemme flir t w/u**

_sweetsuga: Why do you always do this at the worst possible time?_

_sweetsuga: You’re in Kuroo’s house, waiting for him, Akaashi and Bokuto to return bearing pizza and icy treats._

**thighmaster1: okay soo**

**thighmaster1: because e if I do it when I wwanted**

**thighmaster1: like,, how would w e do it??**

**thighmaster1: hwo doe s one sext??**

**thighmaster1: how would we fliter??**

**thighmaster1:  *flirt**

**thighmaster1: yO FUCK I DIDN T EVEN ASK**

_sweetsuga: Um, Daichi?_

**thighmaster1: YEA BBY OMG WHAT ?**

_sweetsuga: I’m just…_

**thighmaster1: oh godd**

**thighmaster1: i pressued u into this omgg**

_sweetsuga: Worried about the distance._

_sweetsuga: Gosh no! Nothing like that!_

**thighmaster1: DDD:**

**thighmaster1: im soz i didnt eve n ask omg**

_sweetsuga: Daichi, stop!_

**thighmaster1: it sokay whe dont need to tlaka botu it**

_sweetsuga: It’s okay._

**thighmaster1: that sentnece was a mess**

_sweetsuga: You didn’t pressure me into anything._

**thighmaster1:  //fuck**

**thighmaster1: aboRT MISSION ABORT**

_sweetsuga: Two minutes. That’s all I ask you to wait and listen to me._

**thighmaster1: yeet yeet**

**thighmaster1: i mena okay sozmy guy**

_sweetsuga:_ (个_个)

_sweetsuga: Okay, so, you like me?_

**thighmaster1: is the sky fuccking blue**

**thighmaster1: but yeha i do**

_sweetsuga: And you know I like you too, right?_

**thighmaster1: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

**thighmaster1: yepperdoodle**

_sweetsuga: Then I’m content in just knowing that._

_sweetsuga: But I do like you. I like flirting with you. I like waking up to snaps of you screaming over anime movies I’ve never seen and your dogs and the ridiculously high temperatures of the desolate wasteland you call home._

_sweetsuga: And I want to meet you, I want to talk to you without needing to open my mobile first, I want to simply share the same space as you._

Shifting in the twisted mass of his bedsheets, Suga felt his gorge rise in the back of his throat. It burned, an acidic tang lingering in his mouth. He licked his balm-smooth lips, feeling his heartbeat spike, thumping a loud, nervous rhythm against his ribcage.

It was true that he did have concerns—brief, inconsequential concerns—about liking Daichi, but never had he needed to directly confront the issues an online relationship posed. Distance, lack of contact, reliance on technology to communicate, subtle differences in cultural norms—they were all looming, terrifying obstacles he had to face.

**thighmaster1: but??**

_sweetsuga: It scares me that I want to be with a person so much and I haven’t even properly met you._

But Suga wanted this, he wanted—

**thighmaster1: i want to know u suga**

**thighmaster1: with all ur cute leggings nd weird kink for  poetry and whatever the fuck good highlughts are**

**thighmaster1: and if that means having to accepting the raosters as a scpahcat friend then i guess ill have to deal with his goddamnt daily flower crowns selfies i receive from him**

_sweetsuga: Oikawa added you on Snapchat? How did you even know it was him?_

**thighmaster1: i thought it WASZ MY GAMER BOI,, IWAIIZUMI**

**thighmaster1: hs name was “iwachansbiceps “ plss**

_sweetsuga: Ah, I should’ve known._

There was a dreaded lapse in time when Suga waited for Daichi to respond, to change the subject matter on a whim. However, he continued to stare at the glimmering brightness of his mobile screen, feeling sickness roil in his stomach like a turbulent storm.

_sweetsuga: Daichi?_

_sweetsuga: Are you angry with me?_

Suga placed his phone face-down on the empty span of mattress beside him, watching as Walt raced across the floor, jumping onto the windowsill above his cluttered bedside table. He stared, transfixed, as his cat’s thick-furred tail swung from side to side in an agitated arc of motion. Walt froze, then launched from the windowsill to run across the floor again, knocking two of Suga’s water bottles to the floor in his frenzied descent.

Sighing on a quiet breath, Suga leaned over the side of his bed to scoop the water bottles into his hands, but then his phone buzzed against his chest. He jolted, his hand shooting grasp his mobile and turn it upwards in his haste to see who had been the one to contact him.

It was an incoming Snapchat alert—from Noya.

Fatigue causing his vision to blur for a moment, Suga felt his chest deflate with disappointment and a small fraction of relief. He opened Nishinoya’s snapchat, feeling endeared enough to smile at the picture. Dark glasses glinting in the sun, Noya had taken the snapchat from the floating ring of an inflatable donut of Kuroo’s pool, a shirtless Asahi smiling in meek embarrassment in the background. The temperature display read as a stifling hundred-degrees Fahrenheit.

In three days Noya would fly home to America, and Suga was sure his return would evoke two emotions within him. One; jealousy that Noya and Asahi had met in real life, and that their obvious infatuation with another did naught but solidify the strong foundations of their relationship. And two; fear that Suga’s perception of Daichi could alter—for better or worse, but most likely better—through Noya’s genuine opinion of him as a complete, flesh-and-bones whole.

Halfway through a half-hearted reply to Noya, Suga’s mobile vibrated, a banner appearing at the head of his screen to reveal the first words of a Tumblr alert— _thighmaster1: nah man like kuroo jsut…_

Suga swallowed, hesitating a mere moment before clicking his Tumblr app open.

**thighmaster1: nah man like kuroo jsut came back w/the boyz**

**thighmaster1: i was distracted by teh pizza ;))))**

**thighmaster1: and like oMG FUUCk**

**thighmaster1: wait first!!**

**thighmaster1: im not angry!!**

_sweetsuga: Good. Great. I mean yeah, I’m glad your not angry._

**thighmaster1: oh no urmaking spelling erros :O**

**thighmaster1:  shit man u were woried**

**thighmaster1: soz man that was a dick move n my part**

**thighmaster1: I kinda.,,, took the chance to be sdistracted for a while..**

_sweetsuga: No, it’s fine._

_sweetsuga: It’s understandable._

**thighmaster1: fucck that sounds abd**

**thighmaster1:  godshit damn suga forgie me**

**thighmaster1: im an ass**

_sweetsuga: You’re not, Daichi. You’re really not even remotely close to being an asshole._

**thighmaster1: okayy buddy whatvere u say**

_sweetsuga: I hurt you, didn’t I?_

**thighmaster1: wait mgimme a sec**

**thighmaster1: im gonna go oustdide**

Restless, Suga kicked off the bedsheets tangled around his legs. The wooden floorboards were cold and smooth, the chill of the floor eased under the warm wool of Suga’s socked feet.

Needing to exercise his pent-up emotion—the coiled twist of fear and anxiety—he strode towards his collection of miniature plants. His fingertips grazed the wax-smooth petals of the orchids. Suga tried to focus on the present, here, alone in his night-darkened room with his cat and the spiral of his thoughts.

But—he remembered telling Daichi about the different breeds of orchids he owned, of showing him each plant. He remembered sending snapchats of Walt biting the sleeve of his sweater, and receiving blurred pictures of Daichi’s dogs in return.

Although Suga happened to spend the majority of his time with his friends at school, or sometimes lazing with Kenma in the afternoon, the course of his daily life was punctuated with contact to Daichi. He had shared every aspect of his life with him, both fandom- and reality-wise. He knows Daichi, as Daichi knows him.

And—Suga hadn’t liked someone as much as he liked Daichi, even years before when he had nursed an unrequited crush on Oikawa without even realizing what it had meant to like boys. No one had near captivated him as much as the straightforward, caring, dependable person he knew through simple conversation and the odd shared picture of him, his dogs, his friends.

**thighmaster1: ah soz liek i forgot how loud bokuto & kuroo are ://**

**thighmaster1: now im outside watching asahi & noya splas each other and giigle**

**thighmaster1: gross**

Emotions warred inside Suga—relief that Daichi no longer seemed fazed, but a gnawing apprehension that he was avoiding the subject, akin to postponing an argument. He hesitated for a moment to consider the outcomes of his future actions, but he couldn’t ignore his own personal fears.

_sweetsuga: Daichi, aren’t you still…_

_sweetsuga: I’m worried._

**thighmaster1: bout what??**

**thighmaster1: oh.**

**thighmaster1: mate its fine im not pissed at all its okay~~**

_sweetsuga: Aren’t you scared about the distance? About something happening, we’ll fight or whatever, and never speak again?_

**thighmaster1: mkay honey,, riddle me this**

**thighmaster1: i know we didnt tlak about this**

**thighmaster1: mainly because I kep thinkgin wHAT THE FUCKK**

**thighmaster1:  but do u think uw odulve come with noya 2 meet me?**

_sweetsuga: I would’ve. I know I would’ve._

**thighmaster1: like,,. Its only bee n around 6 motnhs but**

**thighmaster1: wiat that sounds like a long time ??**

**thighmaster1: when did we start talking??**

_sweetsuga: You messaged me and made that fateful Jesus joke around Labour Day, so about… late August._

_sweetsuga: That’s nearly five months._

**thighmaster1: okay but in ~my heart~ It fells longer**

**thighmaster1: yoo wait!!**

**thighmaster1:  i fuking missed ht epart where u s said u wdould meet me**

**thighmaster1: u really woudlve??**

_sweetsuga: I’ve watched Oikawa fall in love with his best friend, I’ve watched Nishinoya travel alone to Australia to meet someone he trusts to be there waiting for him, and I’ve watched Kenma actively enjoy talking to someone online without being afraid or anxious._

_sweetsuga: And now, my friends are the ones to have watched me find someone I care about too._

_sweetsuga: So, yes, I really fucking would’ve liked to have met you, Dadchi._

Suga’s heartbeat was a dull thud of repetition, echoing loud in his ears. He’d laid his emotions bare, words absent of all preamble, stripped down to the rawest core of truth. He swallowed a lump forming in his throat, awaiting Daichi’s answer.

**thighmaster1: break me heart with that goodamn poetry u did kiddo~~**

**thighmaster1: liek omgg im oustide in 41 degreee heat for u wihtut a hat and this is what kills me softly**

**thighmaster1: here lies dadchi: killed by his boi suga**

Granted a semblance of ease, the anxious twist of Suga’s innards loosened.

**thighmaster1: (( i wanted to meet u too btw,, like I really woudlve liked 2))**

Suga exhaled, expelling all his fears in that release of a single breath of air.

**thighmaster1:  im botu ready to cry dammit**

_sweetsuga: Oh no._

_sweetsuga: Can you feel the virtual hug I’m sending your way right now?_

**thighmaster1: no donNOT TOUCH ME I N THS HEAT**

**thighmaster1: //nah who am i kidding id be all up inur grille**

_sweetsuga: #Gay._

**thighmaster1:** **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

**thighmaster1: #melikey**

**thighmaster1: ugh why did  icome outside I gotta watch noya adn asahi swim/flirt**

**thighmaster1: fuckit theres pizza inside and less gya copamy**

_sweetsuga: You can’t seek less gay company. That’s just, like, the rules of feminism._

**thighmaster1: chill my dude~~ the mean girls memes are done**

**thighmaster1: oh wiat**

**thighmaster1: *kill bill sirens***

**thighmaster1: i forgot akaashi & bokuot are here**

**Thighmaster1: *GAY KILLBILL SURENS***

_sweetsuga: I thought we’d established that no couple scarce approaches the same level of gross affection as Iwaizumi and Oikawa_.

**thighmaster1: plss**

**thighmaster1: ohohohho kuroo has abootleg copy of hacksaw ridge**

_sweetsuga: That war movie with Andrew Garfield?_

**thighmaster1: all I knw is that hes like the secnd castoff spiderman**

**thighmaster1: mmmm akashi is pleased**

**thighmaster1:  hes such a super slut 4 historic movies**

_sweetsuga: I like historic movies, but nothing quite beats urban myths._

**thighmaster1: u mena stuff like actual decent merican presidents??**

**thighmaster1: //R OASTED**

_sweetsuga:_ ヽ(´□｀。)ﾉ

_sweetsuga: I meant local legends._

_sweetsuga: Bigfoot, moth man, chupacabra, jersey devil and the like._

**thighmaster1: ah yess ht e goatsucker my fav**

**thighmaster1: but jersey devil??**

_sweetsuga: Okay, so, it’s a creature that lives in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey (it’s basically a huge ass forest that covers like 20% of New Jersey)._

_sweetsuga: As the story goes, this woman was in labor with her thirteenth child she said “let it be the devil”. And a few minutes after her child’s birth it transformed into a monster with reptilian skin, hooves, horns, a goat’s face, a long tail and massive bat wings and fucking ate everyone in the room before escaping through the chimney and screaming into the forest._

_sweetsuga: Now the creature’s been known to move town to town, terrorizing the populace and consuming livestock. But there’s been heaps of sightings and people always report hearing screaming in the Pine Barrens, countless appearances, and mysterious destruction of properties._

**thighmaster1: the fkck man**

**thighmaster1: thats terryfing**

**thighmaster1: *terrifying**

_sweetsuga: Does Australia have urban legends? All I know is the bunyip._

**thighmaster1: yeet yeet dats our resident murray river monster ;)))**

**thighmaster1: ~~why did i wink~~~**

**thighmaster1: but we got soemkinda montauin man called a yowie?? & idk if its a urban legend but we gottaa like thes min min lights??**

**thighmaster1: my poppa said he saw some once,, nd there like theyre these spoopy unnatural lights which u see in th e outback dat follow ur car and shit**

_sweetsuga: Oikawa would love hearing this, he’s into conspiracy theories and aliens and all that jazz._

**thighmaster1: teh ultimate space hoe ;))**

_sweetsuga: However, we have actual concrete proof of Bigfoot, unlike Oikawa’s flimsy evidence of alien lifeforms._

**thighmaster1: oh lookee hee we gotta ourselves a believer**

_sweetsuga: Excuse me._

_sweetsuga: I watched the entire original X-Files series with Oikawa. I believe._

_sweetsuga: But do you guys have the show Finding Bigfoot over there?_

**thighmaster1: nopie dokie**

_sweetsuga: Unfortunate._

**thighmaster1: mkay bitch our political leader isnt a reptile overlord tho**

_sweetsuga: Your entire country was settled by criminals._

**thighmaster1: objection!! south australia was’t settled by convicts!!!**

**thighmaster1: i am P u r e**

_sweetsuga: I’m sure you’re a paragon of virtue._

**thighmaster1: scuse me mr “i do college coruses” fancypants**

_sweetsuga: At least I’m not related to a kangaroo._

**thighmaster1:  a least i have a cool colelction  of hats**

**thighmaster1: nah bae im sorry ily**

_sweetsuga: ily2._

It wasn’t enough—wasn’t nearly enough—but Suga had learned that he needed to be content with however slow his and Daichi’s relationship progressed, he needed to feel secure in knowing space between them didn’t beget a lack of faith. Because, one day, maybe Suga would feel that loving Daichi would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't think i used any naruto references in this chapter. what in the fresh hell.
> 
> okay so i have started the companion piece ft. asanoya smut but it's slow-going and i just learned it's gonna be over 40 degrees celsius on christmas day so like, bear with me here. hopefully i'll get it down in time for new year's day tho ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ


	12. Are You Saying What I Think You're Saying?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **thighmaster1: my heart,, is le dead**
> 
> _sweetsuga: Honey, no. Don’t be sad._
> 
> _sweetsuga: Here, wait a sec. I got a surprise for you._
> 
> **thighmaster1: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

“You fuckers,” Daichi said, his words muffled into the crook of Kuroo’s shoulder. “You absolute fuckers.”

“I hardly think that is an appropriate farewell, Daichi,” Akaashi commented, acting more out of habit than the actual intent to chastise. Despite the heat, Bokuto arms were looped around Akaashi’s waist, the painful red of his sunburn stark against the pale grey of Akaashi’s shirt.

Daichi drew back from Kuroo’s embrace, feeling the latter’s hand rest at the base of his neck. “Save that shit for your boyfriend, buddy.” He glared at Akaashi, his sternness belied by the shaking tenor of his voice. “You guys are leaving tomorrow, so you gotta focus on giving him a proper send-off.”

In lieu of answering, Akaashi flashed a wan smile, a hand drifting upwards to curl over the protective band of Bokuto’s arms around him. Kuroo masked a wet sniff from Daichi’s side, his arm hooked around Asahi’s neck.

Daichi blinked to combat the hot sting of tears, knowing how much he would miss this—the easy companionship, the time and distance which would now separate them from even planning a simple camping trip. It was a memory that could be solely shared between the five of them, the last moment of exhilarating high-school freedom without the added burden of responsibilities.

However, glory days were fleeting, wonderful only in the short span of time it existed for. After the state volleyball team had generated healthy interest in Bokuto as a potential player, he had decided to attend a different university than Akaashi and Kuroo to focus on an athletic career. There was a silver lining found in how Akaashi’s boarding room was located two doors down from Kuroo’s, so Bokuto could visit both his boyfriend and best friend without needing to navigate more than one dorm building.

Daichi was pulled into Kuroo again, and then Bokuto was suddenly pressing against his opposite side, and he was locked into a tight ring of bodies. It was akin to every pre-game huddle—arms thrown around shoulders, breathing in unison—and knowing whatever they would face, they would do it together.

“I’m going to miss all of you,” Asahi said, forever the most openly sentimental person of the group.

“You great big bunch of assholes,” Daichi added.

Bokuto choked on a wet laugh, and then he was echoing Asahi’s words. Kuroo said the same soon after, as did Akaashi, but it was difficult, more so than their last day of school, or prom. There, standing in Daichi’s driveway, tired and sunburn-sore after a few days of roughing it camping, it was goodbye.

**thighmaster1: advice on hacing friends: dont do it**

_ sweetsuga: You survived the Outback! _

_ sweetsuga: Oh, but why? What happened? _

**thighmaster1: nothing serious bby don’t worry**

**thighmaster1: just had to fareweel the dudes before they left4 college tomoz**

**thighmaster1: my heart,, is le dead**

_ sweetsuga: Honey, no. Don’t be sad. _

_ sweetsuga: Here, wait a sec. I got a surprise for you. _

**thighmaster1: **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)****

_ sweetsuga: Today I finally used this lovely pack of makeup I got for Christmas. I look so good. _

**thighmaster1: babe**

**thighmaster1: ba BE**

**thighmaster1: u look cute??**

_ sweetsuga: I do. I really do. _

_ sweetsuga: My highlight is rose gold, and it shimmers. Plus, it matches my socks. _

Daichi shifted in his seat, his lower back hot against the sun-warm leather. He knew talking to Suga only further postponed the unpacking of the strapped-down plethora of camping gear in the back of his Toyota ute, but he didn’t want to think right now. His leg dangled over the open windowsill, his booted foot swinging back and forth in an aimless arc.

After his phone buzzed with the familiar Snapchat alert, his sweat-damp fingers clumsily opened the app.

Suga was right—he did look fucking cute today. He was sitting up in his bed, his head angled to the side to perfectly accentuate the artful shimmer of colour along the line of his cheekbones. Daichi could only see the blue-and-white pinstripe pattern of his button-down shirt, his open collar revealing soft, cream-white skin.

The following Snapchat was less aesthetic hoe, more utter dork, as his leg was held high in the air, stretched above his head. Daichi snorted at Suga’s blurred expression of alarm at maintaining the awkward angle, but he had a few seconds to glean the slim line of Suga’s grey leggings, and the pale red fuzz of his socks, before he blinked and the picture was gone.

**thighmaster1: #boneralert**

**thighmaster1:  mkay but ur kinky ass snaps reminded me of a joke kuroo told m e when we were fishin**

_ sweetsuga: I’m wearing leggings, not thigh-highs. _

**thighmaster1: mmmmmmmmm**

**thighmaster1: suga in lingerie ;)))))**

**thighmaster1: so what do u call,, a dominant aussie bloke??**

_ sweetsuga: Okay, are you trying to lure me into some weird online form of BDSM-inspired flirting? _

**thighmaster1: yes**

**thighmaster1: no bbY PLZ DONT ELAVE M E**

**thighmaster1: its  a fuckig joke man**

**thighmaster1: //humour me**

_ sweetsuga: *Humor. _

**thighmaster1: u mayy be calle d suga,, but ur not.,, SO SWEET**

**thighmaster1: *dabs***

_ sweetsuga:  _ (´ ＿｀。 )

_ sweetsuga: I am shocked. Appalled. Outraged. _

_ sweetsuga: You would into my house, dab in my presence, and expect no consequences for your dire actions? _

**thighmaster1: -_____-**

**thighmaster1: whyy do u alwys fuckng talk like ernest hemingay ?**

_ sweetsuga: Can you even name a single book he wrote? _

**thighmaster1: :’)**

**thighmaster1: no my beautofil cinnamon bun,, i cannot**

_ sweetsuga: Alrighty-roo, back to this joke. _

**thighmaster1:  UR SO GODDMAN CUTE OMG**

**thighmaster1: but yas onot this joke!!**

**thighmaster1: mkay so!!**

**thighmaster1: what would u call an aussie dom???**

_ sweetsuga: Enlighten me, Kangaroo Overlord. _

**thighmaster1: g’daddy**

**thighmaster1:** **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

_ sweetsuga: Oh. _

_ sweetsuga: My sweet Lord. _

**thighmaster1: nto even god can save u now**

**thighmaster1: or should isay?? asahi cant save u noww???**

_ sweetsuga: Don’t mention Asahi. I’m sure that somewhere, far off in the distance, Noya can sense the mention of his name. Tears will be shed. _

**thighmaster1: yeha but im dealing with  a large sad bearded pupper**

**thighmaster1: u got the better end of their sad romanctic deal**

_ sweetsuga: They are the modern Romeo and Juliet of our time. _

**thighmaster1: doth thou dick miss thee??**

**thighmaster1: heck yee**

_ sweetsuga: Dadchi, no. _

**thighmaster1:** **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)heCK YEEEE ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

**thighmaster1:  DAICHI YES**

_ sweetsuga: I wore a cute outfit today. _

**thighmaster1: thine dick is thicc**

_ sweetsuga: I was gonna send you a quality snapchat. _

**thighmaster1: dost thou seek a plough**

_ sweetsuga: That’s it, I can tell when I’m not wanted. All further contact involving any kind of tight clothing or makeup is now prohibited. It’s taboo. _

_ sweetsuga: Just think… you’ll never see me in good highlights again. And don’t even think about asking for even a mere glimpse of my ass. Your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth. _

**thighmaster1: DD:**

**thighmaster1: honeybun no**

**thighmaster1: why u do m e like this??????**

**thighmaster1: but dat game of thones reference thoo**

**thighmaster1: #noice**

_ sweetsuga: I thought your tastes were strictly Japanese-flavored ninja-tastic nonsense? _

**thighmaster1: matee**

**thighmaster1: i told u dat akaashi is a slut 4 histoiric films**

**thighmaster1: and a lotta fantasy shit too**

**thighmaster1: nd he isually picks movies wen we chill B)**

**thighmaster1:  so he put on game of thnes one day and iw as just like okakkyy**

_ sweetsuga: Did you like it? _

**thighmaster1: wanst bad**

**thighmaster1: teh dragons are 2 kool 4 skool**

**thighmaster1: and can i say that tormund is my fav character?? ebcuase he is????**

**thighmaster1: i likee the hound too**

_ sweetsuga: So, unlike Jon Snow, you don’t know nothing. I like the direction of his character arc in the TV show more than the book series, but I don’t condone the terrible ass shit he’s done throughout. _

**thighmaster1: plss**

**thighmaster1: nthing quite tops joffrey mcdickhead or ramsey weirddfuck**

_ sweetsuga: True. _

**thighmaster1: whose ur fav character??**

_ sweetsuga: Sansa Stark, hands down. _

**thighmaster1: oh i feel u~~**

**thighmaster1: shes fucking sht up now i love it**

_ sweetsuga: Does it make your top ten then? _

**thighmaster1: idk man**

**thighmaster1: I was never one for non-animu shows ://**

**thighmaster1: like yeah theyre mkay but nothing beats a 80s classing movie**

**thighmaster1: *80s classic mvie**

_ sweetsuga: Like Thelma and Louise? _

_ sweetsuga:  _ ( ｡≖ ω ≖｡ ✿)

**thighmaster1: -.-**

**thighmaster1: I mean terminator,, rmabo, & die hard u dicksack**

_ sweetsuga: Dicksack? Really? _

**thighmaster1: *finger guns***

**thighmaster1: but I can say dat nothing beats,,**

**thighmaster1: naruto**

_ sweetsuga: Naruto? _

**thighmaster1: bleive it**

_ sweetsuga: Dattebayo. _

**thighmaster1: boi,,**

**thighmaster1:  when u sing dem sweet swet naruto tunes 2 me**

**thighmaster1: i feel my passiun rising~~**

**thighmaster1: as my sensei, pervy sages ,, passion also rises when he finds dem cute grls**

**thighmaster1: im suure he coudlve liked dem cute boyz 2 if he wanted tho**

**thighmaster1: curse that thing I kidna had for pervy sage+snake bitch a while back**

_ sweetsuga: You lost me at Naruto. _

**thighmaster1: ah yess**

**thighmaster1: lost in my deep vivvid sharingan eyes**

_ sweetsuga: When will the Naruto madness end? _

_ sweetsuga:  _ (┛◉Д◉)┛

_ sweetsuga: Also, Pervy Sage and Snake Bitch? _

**thighmaster1: the pervo sageo is my dad~~ jiraiyaaaaa ((set the world on fireeeee)**

**thighmaster1: damn the english dub got me goood**

**thighmaster1: jiraiyas also narutos godfather and fuckign wrote  abook that minato got the idea for the name naruto form and hes liek a beautiful iidiot with killer ahir i love him mkay**

**thighmaster1: and the scnake bitch is orochimaru**

**thighmaster1: i don’t wnna explain what in the fresh hell he is but all ug otta know is that he and jiraiya were in a legenary team together and i rule the day I ever thought ~~ hmm~~ their penises could unite in a angsty love story**

_ sweetsuga: You could be a poet, Dadchi. The words you use, the way you wield them. _

_ sweetsuga: You’re a… noble wordsmith. _

**thighmaster1: fuckoff**

**thighmaster1: bu t on the subject of being fucked**

**thighmaster1: are u seriously gonna not send me cute snachats anymore??**

**thighmaster1: i hav e akiller sunburn but i can send u sexy ass pics of me in apology ?**

_ sweetsuga: Interesting. _

_ sweetsuga: I might be swayed. _

Daichi grinned, holding his phone high above his head as he pulled his singlet up to his armpits, revealing a hopelessly uncouth view of him post-camping. It felt like a picture he would’ve taken for a profile on Tinder—or Grindr, take your pick—if he placed no substantial care in his appearance.

He surmised he wouldn’t have looked half-bad, disregarding the tender, red V-line of his sunburned collar, chapped lips, and the disgusting, sweat-damp grease shining across his cheeks and chest. A lack of proper bathing and indulgence in alcohol and three barbequed meals a day was a venture that left him in desperate need of a shower, but the memories gained were worthwhile.

However, Daichi settled on the fact that if Suga found him fuckable in an Akubra hat and sheep wool, then  _ this _ —him, posing like a dickhead in the cluttered, camping gear-laden cab of his second-hand ute—shouldn’t be too much of a disaster.

_ sweetsuga: How do you always manage to include at least one of your dogs in your selfies? _

**thighmaster1: the shit**

Daichi opened his mouth, glancing around to see that Tobimaru had settled beneath the side step after he’d swung his door open in hopes of improving his already pitiful ventilation.

“You little fucker,” he snorted, fond. “It’s too hot to be out here, upstaging me with your good looks.” He tugged off his boot before reaching down to pat Tobimaru’s scruff with the gentle sole of his foot. The Shiba Inu stirred, before tucking his head close to his chest, exhaling in a quiet breath.

_ sweetsuga: On any other given day of the week, I would’ve most definitely been distracted by your washboard abs, but Tobimaru is sleeping right there. He looks so peaceful, so pure. _

**thighmaster1: I see u like the doggo more than u like me**

**thighmaster1: me~~ the hottie**

**thighmaster1: me~ ur kindof internet bf**

**thighmaster1: m E**

**thighmaster1: UR DADDCHI**

_ sweetsuga:  _ ಠ_ಠ

_ sweetsuga: And, for the record, I remain unswayed. _

**thighmaster1: do nott take ur cute fuckign snapchats away from me**

**thighmaster1:  i pine,, i bleed for u**

_ sweetsuga: Well, you can make it up to me… _

**thighmaster1: *gasps in fear of sugas unknown naighty side***

**thighmaster1: are u asking for…………….., the dick pics??**

_ sweetsuga: How dare you insult my delicate sensibilities. _

_ sweetsuga: Can’t you just be a normal boyfriend? Maybe send me nice messages telling me good morning and goodnight, reassure me that you’ll hug me one day, or use proper grammar and spelling? _

**thighmaster1: are u saying**

**thighmaster1: that u like me???**

_ sweetsuga: Daichi. You know very well that I like you. _

**thighmaster1: omg u fucking nERD**

**thighmaster1:  U THINK IMG GOREGOUS**

**thighmaster1: U WANNA KISS ME**

**thighmaster1: U WANAN HUG ME**

_ sweetsuga: Okay, so I understand the Mean Girls references because it’s a cult classic, a testament to true cinema. But Miss Congeniality? Really? _

**thighmaster1: ill have u know tha t my mum owns the gooddman tv remote and shes a fuking sap**

**thighmaster1: & asahi only lieks things that arent rated higher than pg**

_ sweetsuga: What happened to those testosterone-pumping action fests you enjoyed? _

**thighmaster1: bby pls**

**thighmaster1: i m versatile af**

**thighmaster1: ican switch things up depending on curcumstances ;)))**

_ sweetsuga: Coming from a self-professed g’daddy, sounds fake, but okay. _

**thighmaster1: *stares off into teh distance***

**thighmaster1: when will ym advances finally be retunred ?**

**thighmaster1:  when will i know u tender tocuh??**

_ sweetsuga: My birthday is in early June. Think about it. You have plenty of time to earn more than ten seconds of a mere glimpse of my ass on Snapchat. _

**thighmaster1: ahhhhHAHHAHHHAHHH!!!!!!!!**

**thighmaster1: what he hella re u suggestin**

**thighmaster1: because i liek it**

_ sweetsuga: Nishinoya said he didn’t realize just how much he liked Asahi… until he asked if they could Skype each other. Which they did, about a year just before they met. _

**thighmaster1: omgg**

**thighmaster1: u wanna skyep???**

**thighmaster1: i wanna skype????**

**thighmaster1: were going to ??? skype????????????**

_ sweetsuga:  _ (੭ ु ˙꒳˙)੭ ु ⁾⁾

_ sweetsuga: After my birthday seems like an opportune time, since we’ll have known each other for nearly ten months then. _

**thighmaster1: holy fuckk**

**thighmaster1: we can like,, wathc movies together**

**thighmaster1: and i can g et like an uniterrupted  view of u + ur ass+ ur highlights**

_ sweetsuga: I won’t have to fight to get a decent look at you. _

**thighmaster1: i wanr u that ill still probs be sunburnt**

**thighmaster1: and wearking farmer clothes**

**thighmaster1: & being liek a metres distance from all my doggos**

_ sweetsuga: So, June then? It’s decided? _

**thighmaster1: hell 2 the yeah**

**thighmaster1: its skype or its nithung bby**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrighty folks, i realise i didn't wish u a merry christmas last chapter so instead i'm settling for hoping all you guys have a good new years!! fuck 2016 tbh. let's hope for better things next year. like daichi finally seeing suga's ass in person :')
> 
> also the i did finish that asanoya companion piece and it is [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8989651)!


	13. Play Of The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **thighmaster1: so how bout we skype around12 on m y end then??/**
> 
> _sweetsuga: Yeah, that should be fine for me._

**thighmaster1: i cannot belie vei it**

_sweetsuga: I can't believe your spelling worsens the longer we talk._

**thighmaster1: hey heyhey y**

**thighmaster1: dis bithc has the ///audacity**

**thighmaster1: to think i;d take a chaisnaw to the face in gow4 and n ot k i l l him**

“Kenma,” Suga whispered into the pleasant warmth of the night, “what is… Is G-O-W-four a game?”

Beside him, the bed sheets rustled, and Kenma peered over the swaddled bed sheets wrapped around his shoulder to blink at Suga. One side of his face was illuminated, his shoulder-length hair cast in the faint glow of his Nintendo DS screen.

“Gears of War?”

“I don’t know.” Suga shrugged. “Daichi just said something about chainsaws.”

“Yeah, that’s Gears of War,” Kenma affirmed. He rolled forward into his initial position, hunched in a protective curl around his handheld. “He’s using a Lancer, which has a chainsaw bayonet. Very effective in close quarters.” A slow pause. “It’s a very violent game.”

_sweetsuga: Your entertainment includes chainsawing people?_

_sweetsuga: Can’t you just… talk it out? Strive for peace through neutral negotiations?_

**thighmaster1: boi**

**thighmaster1: dis game wrote teh book on having fun fuckking poeple up online**

**thighmaster1: nd it makes me feels vE RY ALIIIVE!!**

**thighmaster1: OH FU C**

Suga stared at his mobile, listening to Kenma tap buttons in the quiet atmosphere of night, waiting for a period of two minutes of sudden loss of contact.

**thighmaster1: HE CHANISAWED**

**thighmaster1:  ME AGIAN!!!**

_sweetsuga: Do you want to stop taking or something? Then you can dedicate more attention to… finding happiness through virtual reality._

**thighmaster1: abbe,,**

**thighmaster1: *babe**

**thighmaster1: ur my happiness**

_sweetsuga:_ ✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:* \\(◕‿◕✿)/ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

**thighmaster1: ~well that was fuckin gay~~~**

**thighmaster1: not u**

**thighmaster1: wait yess u**

**thighmaster1: well kinda btoh of us**

**thighmaster1: ..what the fucck am i sayin**

_sweetsuga: Did all the mindless violence finally get to you?_

**thighmaster1: im sorryry i dont play penguin popp**

_sweetsuga: Unlike you, I engage in intellectually stimulating pastimes._

**thighmaster1: hmmmmmmmmmhmhm**

**thighmaster1: //i smell bullsh it**

**thighmaster1: nd scuse me sir but im a  fine creatuere wit and charm**

_sweetsuga: You can’t seem to take one decent selfie without somehow finding your dogs in the frame._

**thighmaster1: omgg**

**thighmaster1: donot brung my beautiful puppers into this**

**thighmaster1: also,,**

**thighmaster1: are u ever gonna ackonwledge my rockhard abs &not my doggos**

_sweetsuga:_ ✧(=ↀωↀ=)✧

_sweetsuga: Maybe. When you do the same for all the cute snapchats of Walt I send you._

**thighmaster1: well before u snet m e like 28549202 snasps of him he was hellaa**

**thighmaster1: thne i get to spend like 1hour opening snaps of u saying u cant move from ur bed to take a shower at 2am because hes sleepin in ur lap**

**thighmaster1: or hes biting ur arm and u gotta /protect ur beautiful ass hands//**

**thighmaster1: r he nkocks over dem bottles of incense u got**

_sweetsuga: Please. I have to deal with you sending your complete unabridged commentary of whatever anime you’re watching. Most usually with a sly innuendo every fifteen seconds._

_sweetsuga: Or remember that one Naruto movie at the end where the whole gang thinks Kakashi was hitting on Naruto? And I suffered through eighty seconds of you laughing. Hysterically._

**thighmaster1: !!**

**thighmaster1: mmmmhmm buddy**

**thighmaster1: *italian mobster voice* furst u attack my hounds,, now my animu**

**thighmaster1: nd 2 think i truste d u~~WTH MY HEA RT**

_sweetsuga: I agreed to watch that movie with the dog called Tobimaru, didn’t I? That’s more than enough proof of how much I treasure your precious weeb heart to watch your weeb shows._

**thighmaster1: mmmmm say weeb 1more tiem**

**thighmaster1: its gets me al l tingly**

_sweetsuga:_ o(；△；)o

_sweetsuga: Weeb._

**thighmaster1: mmmmmmmmmHHMHMMHMmhmmH**

**thighmaster1: u got me goob bby**

**thighmaster1: goob lolz**

**thighmaster1: nd imMA GOOFFY GOOBER YAH**

**thighmaster1: WERE LLA GOOF Y BOOBERS YAH**

**thighmaster1: heyy we should totes watch swod of tEH stanger when we skype**

**thighmaster1: *sword of the stranger**

_sweetsuga: I’ve always wanted to do that!_

**thighmaster1: wathc quality animu ?**

_sweetsuga: I meant watch a movie with someone over Skype or FaceTime, you ass._

**thighmaster1: ohohoOHOOO**

**thighmaster1: //sugas pullin out the bi g guns**

_sweetsuga: Yepperdoodle._

**thighmaster1: :’))**

**thighmaster1: my lil bbyall grownup nd imitating his daddy**

_sweetsuga: Please don’t ever say that again._

**thighmaster1: papas so proud!!**

_sweetsuga: Daddy kink: confirmed._

**thighmaster1: whe we skyype shuld i wear a tie or something**

_sweetsuga: For the last time, all types of foreplay via Skype is strictly prohibited._

**thighmaster1: at least ofr muwhuhu**

**thighmaster1: wtFuck**

**thighmaster1: *at least for now huh**

**thighmaster1: damnit i ruined the mood**

_sweetsuga: Ah, yes._

_sweetsuga: How will we ever recapture those few magical moments of seduction?_

**thighmaster1: u can succ a dick  mate**

**thighmaster1: like,,**

_sweetsuga: Don’t even say it._

**thighmaster1: mkayy u g OT ME**

**thighmaster1: wiat when do we gotta work out o ur time schedules ??**

**thighmaster1: like so im in // t he f ut u re//**

**thighmaster1: so di i gotta skype u at like 9 in the mroning??**

_sweetsuga: That’d be like 5:30am for me, so not a chance in hell._

**thighmaster1: ah ive found ur secert~~ beauty sleep**

**thighmaster1: also a n ass u can bounce a nickle off**

**thighmaster1: & good makeu p skillz**

**thighmaster1: plus dat cute little freckle u got under ur rght eye**

**thighmaster1: all dem pastel sweaters nd striped buttondwns and ripped jeans**

**thighmaster1: fcking hoe aesthetic ass bithc**

_sweetsuga: I was this close to reconsidering the no-dick policy, but then. You had to ruin it._

**thighmaster1: tis but a dreamto 1 day,, truly say fuck u to that policy**

**thighmaster1: and i shall d o so through agressive early morning cuddles & making killer choclate chip pancakes**

**thighmaster1: malso im quote condifent in my ability to be able to,, hold u UP,,,. WITH THE STRENGTH OF MY THIGHS., DOING NAUGHTY NAIGHTY THINGS**

_sweetsuga: Once again, so close, yet so far._

**thighmaster1: okay o kay ill stop**

**thighmaster1: so how bout we skype around12 on m y end then??/**

_sweetsuga: Yeah, that should be fine for me._

**thighmaster1: omgg waiT**

**thighmaster1: ill be like ready to skype u,, at high NooN**

**thighmaster1: or like~~ the opposite**

**thighmaster1: *jesse mccree voice* high midnight**

_sweetsuga: Jesse McCree?_

**thighmaster1: yass**

**thighmaster1: tis my cowboy lover ;)))**

**thighmaster1: h e drinks diesel fuel and has a buckle sayin bamf**

_sweetsuga: You replace me… with another American… who has no taste._

**thighmaster1: pl s**

**thighmaster1: ive got u in my sights**

**thighmaster1: ~sights o f love~~**

_sweetsuga:_  (*≧///≦)☆彡♡♡

**thighmaster1: listen to my romnatic heart,,**

**thighmaster1: die die d ie**

_sweetsuga: What._

**thighmaster1: fiyah in th ehole**

_sweetsuga: Wait, I know these catchphrases. They’re from a game Iwaizumi plays._

**thighmaster1: justice rians from aboeve**

_sweetsuga: Watchtower? Overlook?_

**thighmaster1:** **ryuu ga waga teki wo kurauu!!1!**

“Kenma,” Suga sighed. “Gamer confirmation needed.” He held his mobile out, angling the screen so Kenma could read the conversation in one glance over his shoulder.

“It’s Overwatch.”

_sweetsuga: Overwatch!_

“Say ‘nerf this’.”

_sweetsuga: Nerf this, bitch._

**thighmaster1: now im  s up e r glad i took teh day off**

**thighmaster1: //2 bask in  qualityy game refs from a cute boi <3**

**thighmaster1: is thiss relal life ~~or is it fantasy~**

_sweetsuga: You took a day off work? It better not be so you could game._

_sweetsuga: Daichi, how will we be able to support our suburban home with seven dogs, eighteen kangaroos, and two kids? There’s only so many bills I can pay by moonlighting as a stripper._

**thighmaster1: me@ me: chill,, my dude we canot think of suga as a stripper infear of nuttin**

**thighmaster1:  pfff and what kinda money do u think im makin working in a nursery 2??**

_sweetsuga: Not enough so you can skip a day of work to game._

**thighmaster1: mateo i didnt do it2 game omgg**

**thighmaster1: have le faiht in deez strong ass thighs**

_sweetsuga: You insult me._

_sweetsuga: You know not a day goes by when I don’t pay homage to the church of Dadchi’s muscles._

**thighmaster1: :’))**

**thighmaster1: as long as it aint gay animu jesus ((*whsipers* asahi)**

_sweetsuga: But why did you take a day off work? You haven’t done that since you needed to help your grandfather with sheep work a few weeks ago and we lost our Snapchat streak_.

**thighmaster1: donnot speak such bblasphemy**

**thighmaster1: mkay so i asked for today off becuz its ur bday**

_sweetsuga: But it’s not even my birthday yet?_

**thighmaster1: well,,, umm..**

**thighmaster1: i wanted 2 tll u happy bday..**

**thighmaster1: at midngiht in ur time zon e**

_sweetsuga: Oh. Daichi._

**thighmaster1: yehah so**

**thighmaster1: i wanted 2 be able to tell u happy birthday at like,, the fuccking second it was ur bday**

**thighmaster1: becauz i was an ass & didnt tell u when it was mine and u were sad about it?? so I wanted 2 make uop for it ??**

**thighmaster1: its as  gay as it sou nds u feel m e~~**

_sweetsuga: That’s so sweet of you, oh my god. Oh. My god._

Suga cupped his hand over his open mouth, his vision blurring with unshed tears. He drew a weak breath, shaken to his core. Kenma looked back over his shoulder at the muffled utterance of noise, and then Suga felt tentative fingers wrapping around his wrist.

“Suga? What’s wrong?” Kenma’s voice was quiet.

Swallowing a congested lump in his throat, Suga shook his head. “Nothing bad.” He grasped Kenma’s fingers for a fleeting moment of reassurance. “Daichi just… He did something really nice for me.”

His hold tightening around Suga’s hand, Kenma chose to communicate through meaningful silence rather than speech.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying, like—” Suga focused on evening the spans of his breaths, from slow inhale to slow exhale. “He just said he took the day off work so he could tell me happy birthday.”

The small upturn of Kenma’s lips were framed in the light emanating from his DS screen.

“He’s on a whole other level, that Kangaroo Overlord,” Suga said, aiming for an off-the-cuff joke to lighten the serious mood. It was successful to some extent, based on the small flicker of Kenma’s gaze to his DS, no longer feeling as if he was supposed to _look_ at Suga.

After another few seconds of comfortable quiet, Suga said, “Thanks, Kenma.”

**thighmaster1: suga???/**

**thighmaster1: suGAG GAGAA????**

**thighmaster1: boi whereu at ?**

**thighmaster1: im here /flippinf the fuck out//**

_sweetsuga: Sorry!_

_sweetsuga: I just got a little emotional, is all._

**thighmaster1: wait wht??  why?**

**thighmaster1: u okay honey**

_sweetsuga: Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry, I eman_

_sweetsuga: It’s just_

_sweetsuga: I was expecting to receive some rushed snapchat of you right before you passed out after working, maybe screaming about having missed my birthday or something. Maybe sending me not-safe-for-work content to try and make up for your egregious error, only to realize Tobimaru had somehow managed to sneak into the background and stolen the spotlight from your abs. Again._

_sweetsuga: But instead you tell me that you went and asked for a whole day off work so you were in the right time zone just to say happy birthday to me. That’s like… the nicest thing anyone’s ever fucking done for me, Daichi._

_sweetsuga: You didn’t need to do anything and then you go and do that._

**thighmaster1: u relaise that deep down nsidne i have like the bggest fucking crush on u??**

**thighmaster1: that I woukd mail order my ass over there ????**

**thighmaster1:  just so I can see ur smile????????????????**

**thighmaster1: bby,, not 2 sound like a sappy ashhole,,,. but ur my sunshone**

**thighmaster1: *sunshine**

**thighmaster1: //dammit i donnt evenhave the mad skillz romance ur fine ass**

_sweetsuga: Please stop, I’m going to cry._

**thighmaster1: the fliRITNG WASNUT THAT BAD WAS IT???**

**thighmaster1: D::**

_sweetsuga: No, not that!_

_sweetsuga: I just meant that you’re like this beautiful idiot who can’t take a selfie to save his life, probably owns more baseball caps than shirts, and can’t seem to remember what day of the week it is, but then you go and figure out what exact time you need to say happy birthday to me._

_sweetsuga: And it just makes me like you even more._

**thighmaster1: :’) my lil bby :’)**

**thighmaster1: u makng me feel things dep inside**

**thighmaster1: nd yet i still cant fuckng type**

_sweetsuga: Who needs a competent grasp of grammar with shoulders like yours?_

**thighmaster1: :OOO**

**thighmaster1: did I just,,.**

**thighmaster1: just witness my own murder ??**

_sweetsuga: Dadchi will be missed._

**thighmaster1: myy dick is dead**

_sweetsuga: What?_

**thighmaster1: can I bury it in your ass??**

_sweetsuga: Normally, such a comment would force me to abstain from sending you wonderful snapchats of my equally wonderful contour, but you get a free pass today._

**thighmaster1: does tha t alos mean *slides on sunglasses* now i get //special liberties/.**

_sweetsuga: You’re not seeing my dick._

**thighmaster1: :(((**

_sweetsuga: Any kind of nudity during our Skype call is still also strictly prohibited._

**thighmaster1: :(((((((((**

_sweetsuga: We’re saving all that for when we meet._

**thighmaster1: :)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise dadchi and sugababe are gonna skype, but i'm still maintaining the mystery of /when/ they're gonna D O I T :) pls don't hurt me :) i'm a weak kangaroo :)


	14. Believe It: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _sweetsuga: Yeah, do it. I’m ready._
> 
> **thighmaster1: *ignores the sexual innudeno i could make 2 support &love u***
> 
> **thighmaster1: alrughty lets le skype~~**

**thighmaster1: fuCK U SASOOKE**

**thighmaster1: ORE AM FUCKNG SICK O RU FUCKGN ATTITUE]**

**thighmaste1: U,, R MY NAKAMA**

**thighmaster1:  ND NTOHING WLL EVER CHANGE TAHT**

**thighmaster1: U FUCKG BTICH**

_sweetsuga: I’m._

_sweetsuga: What ancient god did I ever do wrong to have to witness this monstrosity first thing coming out fresh out of the shower?_

**thighmaster1: i ahve a link if necessary**

_sweetsuga: I really don’t need a link, hon._

**thighmaster1: gimme a s ec ill find ut**

_sweetsuga: No, that’s fine, I said I don’t need it._

**thighmaster1: wait it s jsut here**

_sweetsuga: Daichi. Please no._

**thighmaster1: !!!! got it!!**

**thighmaster1:** [ https://www.instagram.com/p/BOz_4mWjnal/](https://www.instagram.com/p/BOz_4mWjnal/)

_sweetsuga: Sometimes, I can’t believe I ever thought it’d be rewarding to resign myself to dating a weeb._

**thighmaster1: ill give u a moment 2 wathc it**

**thighmaster1:** **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

**thighmaster1:** **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

**thighmaster1: so did u wathc it yeet????**

_sweetsuga: Unfortunately, yes._

**thighmaster1: !!!!**

**thighmaster1: im still dyin tbh**

**thighmaster1: it was so good,, spectucaulr, showstopping,, amazing**

_sweetsuga: In my expert opinion on anime openings, nothing quite chalks up to the artistic genius of the German opening._

**thighmaster1: u come into my house,,**

**thighmaster1: steal My HEart ,**

**thighmaster1: ND DARE SPEACK SUCH FILTH**

_sweetsuga: Is this a reason for… divorce?_

**thighmaster1: //divorced**

**thighmaster1: however,,**

**thighmaster1: UR MY NAKA AMA**

**thighmaster1: &nOTING WILL EVER CHANGE THAT**

**thighmaster1: U FUCKNG BTICH**

_sweetsuga: Believe it._

**thighmaster1: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

**thighmaster1: yeha u damn right**

**thighmaster1: u fulfill my shinobi bae fantasies**

_sweetsuga: You do realize that I’m not Kakashi, right?_

**thighmaster1: ~i can drema ~**

**thighmaster1: oi my copy ninja kakashi,, mykakashi of the sharingan**

**thighmaster1: are u ready 2 skype yet**

_sweetsuga: Yeah, I’m just getting changed._

**thighmaster1: u just had a shower ?**

**thighmaster1:  liek i either wear the clothes i was weraring or chuck on some pants**

**thighmaster1: //thats a hint that im aokay with all forms of nduITYYY**

_sweetsuga: I might put some makeup on too._

_sweetsuga: It could be while._

**thighmaster1: again:  u just had a shower ??a**

**thighmaster1: nd took ur amkeup off?????**

Daichi frowned, opting for a lighter approach.

**thighmaster1: and ur alwas cute so??**

_sweetsuga:_  ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡

**thighmaster1: but,,**

**thighmaster1: cmon man ibeen waitin years 4 dis**

_sweetsuga: It hasn’t even been a year. Around ten months, at the most._

**thighmaster1: ??? do i look liek i care????**

**thighmaster1: i get 2 see my future possible bf and ass mdoel in the flesh so????/?**

**thighmaster1:  its a win-win thingo for me kiddo**

_sweetsuga: Give me a few minutes, I’ll be ready soon._

**thighmaster1: wiat**

**thighmaster1: -.-**

**thighmaster1: dont tell me walt jumped on ur lap nd u dotn have the stength 2 push him off again**

_sweetsuga: That was one time!_

**thighmaster1: boi,, dont lie to ur dadchi**

_sweetsuga: Fine. Maybe it’s more accurate to say it happened… three times._

**thighmaster1: more like 17 u fuckerrsnoodle**

_sweetsuga: May I remind you that Walt is a Norwegian Forest Cat. He is a creature made of floof and sunshine, and thus deserves proper tribute._

**thighmaster1: deez thighs deseve proper trubute oohohohoho**

_sweetsuga: Dear Lord Asahi, why did you see it fit to weave the other half of my soul into the most glorious thighs of an illiterate weeb?_

**thighmaster1: gay anime jeesus works in mysterious ways~~**

**thighmaster1: but seriously,, where u 2??**

**thighmaster1: ive been scrolling thru porn gifs,, memes & healthy recopes for like an horu now**

_sweetsuga: The content of your dash haunts me._

**thighmaster1: dont avoid the subjest,, cherry**

_sweetsuga: Cherry? Really?_

**thighmaster1: hello chili peppers~~**

**thighmaster1: its froma  game i played alot as a kid**

**thighmaster1: jax & daxter**

**thighmaster1: nah wiat it twas jak2**

**thighmaster1: nd dis buff guy used 2 go round being nice & telling u cute storeis about his mama teling bedtime storeis and giving him warm milk**

**thighmaster1: //sig wanted sOME MIIIILK**

**thighmaster1: assnoodle u got em off trac kagain**

_sweetsuga: Wait, I have a Naruto meme to share with you._

**thighmaster1: i hate 2 say this,, but naruto emems can wait**

**thighmaster1: boi u aint even online @skype yet**

_sweetsuga: So, Kakashi says he loves all his students._

_sweetsuga: Naruto, Sakura and…_

**thighmaster1: dude??**

_sweetsuga: *looks at smudged writing on hand* Suck My Ass._

**thighmaster1: suga? do u actually feel comfortable skyping me?**

**thighmaster1: like idk how to describe it man**

**thighmaster1: u okay???**

Daichi’s fingers hovered on his keyboard, blinking at his last message before retracting his hands. He sighed, mouth pressed into a thin like. He attempted to control the quickening on his heartbeat, swallowing an anxious lump forming in his throat.

“Asahi?” He asked, glancing sidewards.

It was the weekend, which Asahi usually spent volunteering at a non-profit wildlife shelter, but he knew Daichi had planned to Skype Suga today. Daichi knew his friend had acted out of naught but his innate need to care, but he felt a sudden wave of anger rise in him at the implication Asahi surmised something like this would happen. However, the emotion soon faded, fleeting in its existence—replaced with a tight knot of worry.

“When you and Nishinoya finally Skyped, did you…” Daichi felt his brows crease, heavy with the weight of fear. “Were you ever scared that he wouldn’t be like you imagined?”

After Asahi noticing Daichi’s uncharacteristic sombreness, he muted the TV, turning towards him. At their feet, two of Daichi’s dog’s interest were piqued at the slight shift of Asahi’s change in position on the couch, but they soon settled into contented dozing again.

“What did Suga say?” Asahi asked, gentler than usual—if that was possible.

“Nothing, he just—” A pause. “I don’t think he wants to Skype, is all.”

“Did you ask him that?”

Daichi shook his head.

After a few stilted moments of quiet, Asahi spoke, “I think Noya was nervous the first time we agreed to do a Skype video call. We’d done audio calls before, like ones that weren’t longer than thirty minutes, but never video.” He smiled, fond with a distant memory. “I think there was also something about him being worried that my anxiety would ruin it, that I’d get overwhelmed and feel too embarrassed to speak to him again.”

Opening his mouth to retort, Daichi was cut off with Asahi’s swift interception of, “He thought that I wouldn’t like him as much, that he’d be too loud or unpredictable, and I’d lose confidence. He was scared that I’d be disappointed that he wasn’t who I’d imagined him to be.”

Daichi felt the corner of his mouth twist downwards into a contemplative frown. He stretched his foot out over the edge of the couch seat, his bare toes brushing the soft fur of Tobimaru’s stomach.

“Um, Daichi—”

“Do you really think he doesn’t know that I’m, like, in fucking love with him or something?”

Asahi paused, his shocked expression shifting, easing. He snorted, equal parts scandalised and amused at Daichi’s forthright admission.

“Why are you laughing?” Daichi demanded, mock-serious. “Asahi, c’mon. Stop it.” After it was made blatantly clear that Asahi would _no_ t stop laughing, Daichi thumped his friend’s arm with a good-natured punch. “Jesus, thou art an asshole! Shut thine mouth!”

Asahi raised his arms to cover his head, protected against Daichi’s physical—as well as verbal—assault. “Oh my god, you’re not Akaashi! Stop using fancy words!”

“I’ll talk like motherfucking Shakespeare whenever I want, bitch.”

Daichi hooked his arm around Asahi’s neck, dislodging the latter’s arms long enough rub his knuckles over the crown of Asahi’s head in playful companionship. In that moment, he was laughing, as exuberant and weightless as Asahi, but the cheerful alert of the Tumblr messenger cut through their raucous noise, near silencing it.

_sweetsuga: I’m… I’m worried, Daichi._

_sweetsuga: What if it’s awkward? What if we don’t know what to say?_

_sweetsuga: I mean, if we can’t Skype that means it’d be a bad idea to meet in real life too, right? We all can’t be go from childhood friends to lovers like Oikawa or Iwaizumi, or be comfortable despite the distance like Asahi and Noya?_

**thighmaster1: suga,, baby, calm down**

_sweetsuga: What if you don’t like me anymore?_

**thighmaster1: i doubt i can like u any less than a fucking lot**

_sweetsuga: What if I fuck it up?_

**thighmaster1: SUGA!! U WNT!!!!**

**thighmaster1: there s nofucking way ill skype u and think any les sof u**

**thighmaster1: ive dated people, & liked them all,, but ive never been so godamn infautued with someone like u**

**thighmaster1: somene whose pretty & kind & funny and keeps me grounded when im frekaing out ver stupid thigns like needing to get on with my life**

**thighmaster1: and!! U like volleyball 2!!! like!!!!!!!!!!!!! that’s my KIN K!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**thighmaster1: UR MY KINKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!11**

**thighmaster1: I like you. I like you SO MCUH.**

**thighmaster1: That aint gnna change, bucko.**

_sweetsuga: But, is it okay to be nervous?_

**thighmaster1: u dont think im not nervous?**

_sweetsuga: You just always seem more self-assured than I do. More confident in what you do._

**thighmaster1: well,, im confident this cute boy im currently roamcing can skype me**

**thighmaster1: im sure of it kiddo**

_sweetsuga: Okay. Yeah._

_sweetsuga: I can do it. If you can, I can._

**thighmaster1: i believe in u sweetheart**

**thighmaster1: or rahte ri could say that i..**

_sweetsuga: Believe it?_

**thighmaster1: belive it!**

_sweetsuga: Never underestimate the power of Naruto, huh?_

**thighmaster1: BEIVE ITTT!!!!**

_sweetsuga:_ (´∀｀)

**thighmaster1: cmon show me some rea l fire Boi~~**

**thighmaster1: sow me dat team spirit!!**

_sweetsuga:_ ଘ(੭ˊ꒳ˋ)੭✧

**thighmaster1: YEAH CMON!! *PALAPTINE VOICE* DO IT!!**

_sweetsuga:_ ☆ﾐ(o*･ω･)ﾉ

**thighmaster1: #wildd**

**thighmaster1: mkay but we doin voice or audio call??**

**thighmaster1: jesus said he started with audio if u wannda do that**

_sweetsuga: Um, maybe audio?_

_sweetsuga: And then we can switch to video later? If we’re comfortable with it?_

_sweetsuga: I don’t know, hon. Like, I doubt I’ll get through thirty seconds without freezing up._

**thighmaster1: ull do fine cutie <3**

_sweetsuga:_ ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ)

**thighmaster1: mkaybby doll im calling now**

**thighmaster1: u cool ??**

_sweetsuga: Yeah, do it. I’m ready._

**thighmaster1: *ignores the sexual innudeno i could make 2 support &love u***

**thighmaster1: alrughty lets le skype~~**

**thighmaster1: //frist get ur ass online**

Time lapsed for a few seconds, and then Daichi watched Suga’s Skype status icon colour with a pale green, denoting that then he was online—far from Daichi, in the same position as him but twice as nervous.

Daichi’s finger skated across the touchpad, mouse hovering over the phone icon, before pressing down. The much too preppy sound of the call connecting filled the room and Daichi’s chest swelled with air, anxious in agonising over what the next few seconds would entail. Daichi felt Asahi shift beside him in a subtle attempt to mask how he held out the remote, and the volume of the TV dimmed to a low buzz of sound a few moments later.

“You fucker,” Daichi whispered, too nervous for the words to carry his usual joking tone.

Asahi snorted under his breath, the familiar ease of their banter causing him to smile, strained and fleeting, but a relief that he could do so no less. His heartbeat slowed, lulled to a steady rhythm but then—

“Um, Daichi?” Asahi asked.

“What?”

“You… Did you mean to do a video call?”

His head twisting from Asahi to his computer screen, Daichi realised that he did, in fact, click on a video call instead of audio.

“Fuck,” Daichi swore. “Dude, how do I get it back to audio?” He felt his throat tighten, emotion constricted. “Suga didn’t want to do video. Fuck. Shit.”

Leaning close to him, Asahi pointed at the red icon. “Just end the call and try again.”

“Fuck, okay, yeah. I’ll—”

The call connected, opening to a receiving video—Suga must’ve pressed video too.

Daichi and Asahi were framed in the small rectangle of video at the bottom right-hand side of the screen, both wearing identical expressions of wide-eyed fear. However, they were greeted to the sight of light reflecting of a keyboard, Suga’s screen most likely angled down after accepting the incoming Skype call, and then panicking after noticing he’d also pressed video.

“Uh, Suga?” Daichi called, uncertain.

There was a low murmur of rapid-fire conversation, a pause, and then the screen was pulled upwards to reveal the empty expanse of a bed, a pair of crossed legs, and—

“Hey, Daichi, so—Oh, Asahi? Hi!”

In a matching tone of confusion, Daichi and Asahi spoke in bewildered unison: “Noya?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [lauren](http://2012meme.tumblr.com/)—my beautiful weeabo lover, my sparkling suga in good highlights, the patriotic eagle to my lowly kangaroo—wanted to be credited for the suck-my-ass naruto joke. there u are. now send me nudes as a reward lol.
> 
> ALSO DAICHI AND SUGA ARE SKYPING NEXT CHAPTER SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER BUT I PROMISE THEY'LL DO IT SOON!!! PLS STILL LOVE AND VALIDATE ME!!!


	15. Believe It: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the fuck kind of terrible accent was that?”
> 
> “What really gets my engine revving is _Naruto_ , you bloody drongo.”

Suga never expected this.

Not once did he expect his first Skyping experience with Daichi to so quickly divert into some excuse for Noya to moon over his boyfriend, but it seemed the insurmountable distance did naught to dampen their obvious—if still chaste—feelings for each other. However, the whole purpose of this night had been dedicated to the further establishing the foundations of Daichi and Suga’s newly-fashioned relationship as something more tangible, as concrete evidence that he and Daichi could become a _they_.

Standing at the foot of his bed, Suga watched as Noya leaned close to screen of Suga’s Macbook, seemingly enraptured. “You look really nice with your hair down,” Noya said, staring with something close to starry-eyed awe. “Like, handsome.”

Sighing, Suga pressed his knuckles to his lips, fingers curled around his mobile. He could imagine Asahi’s embarrassment rising, overflowing, causing him to shift aside, near disappearing from the outgoing Skype video.

“Um, y-you look nice.” Asahi’s voice filtered through the speakers, meek and flustered. “Not that you e-ever don’t look nice! I mean, right now… you look nice. Nicer than usual.”

“Say ‘nice’ one more time and I might nut, Jesus-san.”

Suga didn’t realize he had been smiling until the muscles of his face reset, his lips pressing into a thin, anxious line. He felt like he should’ve marked the day, or the time, because that was Daichi’s voice—it was deep, masculine, characterized by a more pronounced Australian twang than Asahi’s.

“Daichi!” Asahi’s exclamation was soon followed by a solid impact of flesh to flesh, most likely in an effort to curb Daichi’s constant need to make sly innuendoes.

Unseen to Suga, who remained at the safe position hidden behind the scope of his camera, there was a commotion—muffled laughter and a rustle of fabric. It seemed so easy then to fit beside Noya on his bed, to make an unpremeditated appear amidst the chaos of whatever hell Daichi was raising. He stepped forward, the action causing Noya to glance up at him, his glimmering mirth soon sobering, a question brimming in his gaze.

“Yo, Daichi,” Noya started. The noise dimmed. “You see, when Suga accepted your call, he accidentally pressed video instead of audio. And he freaked the fuck out, of course.”

“Yeah, I kinda guessed that.” It was Daichi’s voice again, twice as alarming a second time.

“Yep, so, Suga just wanted me to switch the call back to audio.”

“That’s fine.”

A few seconds later, Suga’s mobile vibrated in his grasp.

**thighmaster1: im gonna talk 2 a cute boy in a few secs!!**

**thighmaster1: wish me luck thAT I DONT NUT HWNE I HEAR HIS SWEET AS S VOICE!!!!!**

The familiar string of Daichi’s words—casual and off-the-cuff, genuine in his ceaseless straightforwardness—were enough for Suga’s entire being to relax, the taut pull of tension in his chest easing.

“Noya,” Suga was saying before his scattered thoughts had coalesced into coherence, “it’s okay. You can keep it on video.”

“Are you sure?” He and Daichi echoed, their mirrored concern prompting Suga to smile again.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Alright then!” Noya pushed Suga’s Macbook further to the middle of the bed, shifting to the side as to leave an available area of space for Suga to sit beside him.

Stalling for one moment longer, inhaling in one sharp breath that steeled his nerves, strengthening his resolve, Suga sat down. He tucked one leg under his knee, dropping his shaking hands between his legs, and—finally, _finally_ —looked up at Daichi.

The zipper of Daichi’s navy jumper was caught between his teeth in an oddly endearing manner, but it fell from his lips as he stared back at Suga, his gaze widening. His expression was remade into something that could only be described as dumbstruck.

“Hey,” he said, speaking breathier than he had been before. Quieter, too.

His cheeks were flushed with heat, steadily growing more nervous the longer Daichi looked at him, but Suga managed to respond. “Hi, Daichi.”

It must’ve been the first sound of his voice that made Daichi blink, his mouth forming a smile— _oh_ , Suga thought he needed a warning to see Daichi smile from henceforth.

“You’re so fucking cute, mate,” Daichi blurted, snapping back to reality a few seconds too late. All four of them were equally embarrassed at his sudden admission.

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Asahi said, moving out of complete view in Daichi’s video.

“Me too,” Noya echoed, leaving Suga’s side. “I want to see more of you with your hair down, Asahi! Snapchat me!”

Asahi lingered to promise Noya he would, and then Noya was closing Suga’s bedroom door, and Daichi was sitting alone on his couch. And then—silence, their eyes meeting once in a fleeting glance before shy aversion.

“So, how are you—” Daichi’s question was cut short as Walt jumped onto the edge of Suga’s mattress, hurtling towards Suga’s unprotected hand.

“Ah, Walt!” Suga shrieked, pulling his vulnerable wrist to his chest. “Get off me!”

“Oh my god,” Daichi—that  _sadist_ —laughed, “get ‘im, Walt!”

“No, don’t encourage him. I can’t believe—” Walt alternated his interests to Suga’s other hand, pouncing with all the deadly agility of a large, slow-moving furball. “ _Ow_. Curse you, Walt Whitman.”

“Strewth, that cat’s a fucking menace.” A dramatic pause. “I love him.”

“Aren’t you supposed to love me?”

It felt like a risk to make such an offhand comment about love so early on, but Daichi was either too kind or too flippant to dwell on it.

“Bucko,” Daichi said, running a hand over his chin. “You’re the Naruto to my Sasuke.”

Suga was glad Walt had settled at his side, so he had a plausible excuse to glance aside instead of losing focus and staring at the path of Daichi’s fingers over the broad outline of his jaw. He was convinced Daichi could claim the mantle of one who took only the most aesthetically abysmal selfies, so he was fitfully unprepared to see him framed in decent lighting. To watch his smile appear in an instant, to hear the booming echo of his laughter, to realize he could manage to still be handsome in a ratty jumper and faded jeans.

Rather than musing over such silly thoughts, Suga opted for an easier alternative—to tease. “So, you’re the Sasuke in our relationship? Really?”

His mouth closing, Daichi seemed to spend a few moments in serious deliberation on the matter of _Naruto_ dynamics before replying. “I may be missing the whole brother complex thing, but I think I might be able to achieve the heights of emo to truly embody Suck My Ass with a tragic enough backstory.”

“ _Getting ready to fight on sight, got my best friends by my side: Suck-My-Ass is really cool, Sakura the beaut-i-ful_ ,” Suga sang, his impish smile hidden behind a cupped palm.

Daichi held a hand over his chest, offended—like Suga had succeeded in offending every fiber of his existence in the span of a few short, nightmare-inducing lyrics.

“You know what, mate?” Daichi’s gaze was narrowed, critical. “I don’t think you bloody deserve hearing the _Naruto_ joke I just came up with.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I almost can’t… believe it.”

Daichi narrowed his gaze, scoffing. “And, also, I’m not going to show you my dogs, like, ever.”

It was Suga’s turn to act affronted, quick to follow the upbeat back-and-forth of their fast-paced banter. “But eighty-percent of your Australian charm is your dogs,” he argued. “You can’t take this from me, Naruto-kun.”

“But… Bruh-chan.”

“Dadchi-san, please.”

The first to falter was Daichi, grinning through laughter with the same kind of timeless beauty people did in Polaroids—the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling, his teeth reflecting the light. Suga wished—hopelessly, desperately—he could’ve captured the moment then, immortalizing it in physical form so he could’ve flattened it between the pages of his favorite poetry collection to find years later.

“Stop, please!” Daichi was wheezing, laughing with such an uncontrollable fervor that he’d forgotten to fill his lungs with air between abrupt, hiccupping snorts. “This is, like, fulfilling all of my roleplay fantasies in one go.”

Of course, Daichi was making sexual innuendoes when Suga was mulling over pressing stolen memories between the florid prose of John Keats—it would be frustrating if it wasn’t so funny.

“Oh my god. That’s it. I’m done. It’s over.” Daichi was slumped between his knees, recovering. “Anymore and I’m gonna bust a fucking nut, baby.”

“Alright, love. I’ll stop”

Resting his elbow on his knee, Daichi propped his chin in his hand. The slow uptick of his lips into a smirk was edging far too close to dangerous. “You calling me ‘love’ now, huh?”

During the entirety of their Skype call, Suga was sure he’d hidden all his smiles behind the fan of his hand, but he simply felt too embarrassed to reveal the flush of his cheeks. He glanced downwards, feeling his eyelashes flutter against the curve of his cheek, fingers closing around the pastel-pink sleeve of his oversized sweater.

“Suga, you look like some hipster wet dream,” Daichi said with a casual nonchalance, as if he hadn’t effectively ruined this moment and _every moment to come_.

“Oh, be still my beating heart.”

“C’mon, I said you look cute! Like, super cute.”

Suga tilted his head at a considering angle, schooling his expression into stern disapproval. He never felt like he had wielded more power over Daichi than when he watched him rush to regain Suga’s good standing.

“Wait, baby, please!” Daichi stretched his hand down, past the open V of his legs, out of the view. Suga heard the snap of his fingertips. “I’ll make up for it—here, look, I got my doggos with me.” Daichi patted the couch seat beside him, and then Shiba Inu was jumping to his side. A Border Collie followed a few seconds later, pushing his nose into Daichi’s knee.

“Is that Tobimaru? And—Ned?”

“Hell yeah, these are my boys.”

To emphasize his point, Daichi wrapped his arms around Ned, kissing the top of his head with a loving affection that seemed so unlike what the broad, masculine set of his shoulders promised. And then, in a bid for attention, Tobimaru licked Daichi’s cheek in one long, wet stripe, whining softly. Daichi rubbed his shoulder against the side of his face, smiling as he reached forward to pat Tobimaru’s head in reassurance.

“I’m not saying you’re being replaced,” Daichi said in firm assertion that Suga remained his favorite piece of ass, “but Tobimaru’s a rival competitor for stealing my heart.”

“Well, I think you know you’re gonna have to compete with Walt for my affections.”

“Oh yeah, like that’s a worthy fucking adversary.”

“If so, then I raise you to the challenger of quality American candy.”

Pausing for dramatic effect, Suga reached over the side of his bed in what he hoped was a graceful movement—if he did huff at the awkward angle, cursing as his fingers struck the wooden handle of his bedside drawer before pulling it open. He held up a pack of gummy bears with an artful flourish.

“Okay, I’m sure that bullshit American confectionary is all nice and shit, but can we address the fact you’re wearing some sweet lil’ leggings.”

“And?” Suga shrugged, the plastic edge of the bag crinkling in his grasp.

“Baby, when you leaned over just then I had a complete, uninterrupted view of your ass for a solid ten seconds there.” Daichi’s train of thought seemed to meander, wandering to fixate on more important matters—like _Suga’s ass in tight clothing_. “Like, it was a glimpse into the pearly gates of Heaven. A holy vision. A fucking divine intervention of—”

“Okay,” Suga interrupted, “you want to watch this movie or wax poetic over my ass?”

“Baby, you’re cute and all, but I love this movie.” The receiving video was shaken as Daichi stood up, walking past the scope of the camera to disappear from view. “I gotta put the CD in, just give me a sec!”

“When did you buy it? I thought you were using Kissanime like all us plebs.”

“Um, buckaroo, don’t doubt my dedication to anime.” Even if he was a reasonable distance from the microphone, the rich baritone of Daichi’s voice carried—Suga blinked, debating whether he was attracted to Daichi’s accent or simply to Daichi. “The whole purpose for me driving down to Adelaide every few weeks is so I can buy anime in physical form and visiting Kuroo is, like, of secondary importance.”

“Shouldn't you be more sympathetic to easing Kuroo’s pain as the third wheel?”

“Dude, Kuroo and Bokuto are bros, like, they talk more than fucking him and Akaashi ever will.”

“But?” Suga prompted.

“Bokuto and Akaashi have a date night, like it’s bloody weekly thing,” Daichi explained. “I’m sure Bokuto would bring flowers and chocolates if Akaashi ever told him what his favorite was. Me and Kuroo usually end up going with them in this weird half-romantic, half-platonic double-date to whatever hipster cafe Akaashi recently discovered.”

“That’s so nice, though!”

“I know, like sympathetic third wheel my ass.” Suga watched Daichi fall back into the seat of the couch, scratching his forehead with the edge of the remote. “Back to the movie, you good?”

“What was it called again?”

 _“Sword of the Stranger_ , bitch.”

Suga rolled his neck, pushing his Mac further forward over the rumpled comforter of his bed so he could lie down, feet kicked up behind him. He realized his mistake too late, as Walt stalked across the span of the bed, pouncing with the malicious intent to rip Suga’s cute striped socks.

After recovering from Walt’s vicious attack, Suga was quick to find a suitable website, bookmarking it for later use once he noticed _Naruto: Shippuden_ was included amongst the latest updated anime—because, who knows, it was possible he could start watching _Naruto_. Daichi had promised that Suga’s birthday gift currently in transit, so maybe it was time he thought of a decent present for Daichi that didn’t include decent confectionary.

“You ready?” Daichi asked, primed for action.

“I’m good.”

“Alrighty then, just say when to press play.”

His fingers sliding over the mousepad, Suga said, “Three-two-one.”

“Are you fucking with me?” Daichi asked no less than three minutes later, a glare leveled at Suga through the fuzzy quality of the screen. “Is that another fucking brand of candy you’re eating?”

Suga stilled, the rich swell of Hershey’s chocolate coating his tongue. “Um, no.”

_sweetsuga sent a link._

The next time it was barely six minutes into the movie, but Daichi remained silent despite the distinct sound of his Tumblr messenger alert cutting through the mismatched audio, and he flipped Suga off with only minimal antagonism. However, Suga’s mobile vibrated in his grasp a moment later.

**thighmaster1: shhhhhhhh**

**thighmaster1: wathc the goodamn movie**

_sweetsuga: But that was a quality Naruto post!_

**thighmaster1: th e good parts ocming soon!!!!!**

**thighmaster1: shhhHHHH!!!!!**

_sweetsuga: It’s all beach scenery and_

_sweetsuga: Wait. Look, there’s Tobimaru!_

**thighmaster1: it gets better**

_sweetsuga: Okay, I trust you. I’m putting my mobile down._

Suga barely lasted three more minutes.

_sweetsuga: Oh, he’s cute. A little too much Suck My Ass for my tastes, though._

“Mate, watch the fucking movie,” Daichi said in a flat tone of the defeated. “We’re gonna make sweet love to this soundtrack, so take some fucking notes.”

Suga choked, glancing aside to avoid looking in the general direction of Daichi—out of fear of further being embarrassed, which he seemed to be making a habit of lately. “Um,” he stammered, “what did you just say?”

Daichi’s zipper was caught between his teeth again, but now his fingers replaced his mouth, and he drew the zipper down, down, down his chest. Heat flooded Suga’s cheeks, almost that it felt like his skin was burning, and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip in an attempt to distract from the tell-tale quickening of his pulse. Before, teasing had seemed fun, light-hearted and easy, but now Suga was sure it was dangerous to so openly flirt with Daichi present to reciprocate.

“Watch till the end of the movie and you’ll see the musical score that really gets my engine revving.”

It was an innuendo, a prelude to things that would come, but—Suga snorted, a burst of giggles escaping the closed seam of his mouth.

“Seriously? The fuck are you laughing at?” He wasn’t angry, merely curious.

“You—Oh, Lord.” Suga had forgotten how difficult it was to talk through laughter.

“Suga, I’m pausing the fucking movie. Explain yourself.”

“Like, your accent got all thick and slow and—I’m gonna start crying, I can’t—” Suga was inhaling in short, wheezing breaths, laughter rattling in the bones of his chest. “It sounded like Crocodile Dundee was making a pass at me.”

“What?”

Even if Oikawa was the only person who had the terrible power to do worse fake accents than Suga, it didn’t stop him from trying. “G’day, I’m Daichi, and I like cute ‘Murican boys, kangaroos, and the outback.” Suga didn’t if it was worse hearing himself speak, or knowing Daichi would judge him based on this.

“What the fuck kind of terrible accent was that?”

“What really gets my engine revving is _Naruto_ , you bloody drongo.”

“Dude, stop! I’m dying here.”

“Let’s go for a Maccas run in the morno.”

“That’s not a fucking word, you douchenozzle.” Daichi rolled his eyes, smiling despite the injustice he’d just had the displeasure of witnessing. “You’re probs thinking of arvo, not whatever the shit ‘morno’ is.”

Wiping at the moisture gathering in the corner of his eyes, Suga sighed, his stomach aching after such full-bellied laughter. “Okay, okay, I give up,” he said, dropping the horrible Australian accent he’d adopted in a moment of ill-advised spontaneity.

“Suga,” Daichi started, “you are the moon of my life, my beautiful silver-haired Valyrian princess, my Khaleesi, but can we watch the fucking movie now?”

“I’ll do anything you want, my sun and stars, my strong Dothraki horse lord—”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too,” he interrupted, waving a flippant hand, “but we’re restarting this shit. You’ll never get dick pics if you don’t properly appreciate my show. It’s either that or divorce.”

“Alright, hon.”

“So, go back to the start of the fight scene and press play on... three-two-one.”

Reaching for a spare water bottle at his bedside, Suga drew a long sip before settling his head on crossed arms, moving the small rectangle of receiving Skype video to the corner of his Macbook screen. He watched the scene change, from simple black-and-white Japanese text to the fast-paced charge of horses over rain-soaked ground.

Suga blinked, his muscles loose with relaxation, content with watching the film unfold with Daichi, even if he was no more than a pixelated image of a person on the other side of the world.

Two hours later, after Suga had sleepily bid goodnight to Daichi, tucked his Macbook away, and murmured his apologies to Nishinoya for banishing him from the space of his bedroom, he reopened his Tumblr app on his mobile.

_sweetsuga: It was a good movie. I liked it._

**thighmaster1: & the last fight snce??  with the kickass msic?????**

**thighmaster1: is it beuatiuflly crafted enough to want to lose ur v-card to dem sweet insutrmentla  tunes???**

_sweetsuga: Could you believe it that I… could be persuaded._

**thighmaster1: !!!**

**thighmaster1: ayE AAYE**

**thighmaster1: imma buy the sountrack now so we can bask init when we meet**

**thighmaster1: i can se eit now~~~ i arrive at our 1st meeting place**

**thighmaster1: animu soundtrack: played**

**thighmaster1: sexual innuendoes: ma de**

**thighmaster1: dick: o U T**

**thighmaster1: I AM FORCIBLY REMOVED FROM UR HEART**

_sweetsuga: Dadchi, I just want you to know that you meme so much to me._

_sweetsuga: Our relationship is so memeingful._

**thighmaster1: ah bby,, maybe memes are our always**

_sweetsuga: Meme?_

**thighmaster1: meme**

**thighmaster1: okay but it slate so u should do the slepe now**

**thighmaster1: //drema of me**

_sweetsuga: Have a nice day, honey._

**Thighmaster1: u2**

**Thighmaster1: i mean~~ not bonos swwet irish voice**

**Thighmaster1: //goodnight**

Suga didn’t reply, but he went to sleep with the sentiment settling warm and heavy beneath his sternum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: ugh this 3k of dumb fuckass flirting 
> 
> lauren: isn't that what the people want??
> 
> me: ...u win this round ://


	16. Let's Hear It For The Boys!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **thighmaster1: kurooss gottta cruSUSHHHHH**
> 
> _sweetsuga: Really? On who?_
> 
> **thighmaster1: either,, this tall ass kid who can play voleeyball**
> 
> **thighmaster1: or some secret onsline gamer dued**

Kuroo stilled, the lip of his bottle pressed to his lips, and then promptly choked. “You guys Skyped?” He wiped a dribble of spilled beer from his mouth, his expected—albeit unheeded—response waylaid by his initial shock.

“Yep,” Daichi said, near yelling so he could be heard over the late-night din of the crowded pub. “It was the full monty, alright. Working out our schedules and watching anime together and all that shit.”

It was inevitable—to Kuroo, the lure of abandoning his good intentions to adopt a darker sense of humour was magnetic, quick to engage. Daichi was prepared, having recognised the proud, arrogant tilt of Kuroo’s chin before, and the slow curl of his lip, and then—

“Did you suggest possibly fucking over Skype in the future?”

“Hell yeah.”

The heady slide of beer down Daichi’s throat was a serviceable distraction from the intense line of Kuroo’s gaze, trained on him, searching for any slight waver in his composure. He tried to focus on the noise, on the loud, eager crush of surrounding people, and the taste of a full-bodied brew lingering on his tongue, but it was useless.

Kuroo was quick to slyness, to needle and jest, but he was one of the smartest people Daichi knew, perceptive too—and Daichi was a terrible liar, and prone to laughing at inopportune moments.

“You didn’t, but you wanted to,” Kuroo said, head tilted in analytical consideration. “You really wanted some sweet, sweet ass.”

Pressing his lips together, Daichi attempted to stifle the sounds of his bubbling amusement, resulting in a short, badly disguised snort.

“You wanted some prime American dick.”

Daichi bent at the waist, an uncontained bellow of laughter bursting from his lips.

“You probably fantasised about it, his penis being all pretty and pink and perfect. It probably comes gift-wrapped, too.” If Kuroo’s voice hadn’t dropped, the suave tone akin to that of an audible sin, Daichi would’ve hollered.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Daichi exclaimed, shoving Kuroo aside.

His elbow slid off the edge of the lacquered wooden table, alcohol sloshing over the glass rim of his pint. Recovering after a few humble apologies to the people he’d careened into, Kuroo turned to stare at Daichi with a deliberate slowness, a hand held over his chest in wide-eyed betrayal.

“You’re paying for that,” Kuroo said lightly.

“Mate, you pay for your own fancy Japanese beer.”

“You’re drinking it too.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have the sturdy constitution of you crazy college kids.”

Kuroo was smirking, leaving an open invitation to banter, to act with the same carefree attitude of their idle high school lives. Smiling out of nostalgia rather than alcohol-tinged cheer, Daichi raised his glass to Kuroo’s, his mind awash with a pleasant cloud of intoxication, blinking to combat the haze of it.

The surrealism had faded once Kuroo had convinced Daichi to enter a modern nightclub a few buildings down from the old-fashioned pub. Daichi proceeded to spend a disastrous half hour apologising to all those whose elbows and shoulders he’d collided with before finding Kuroo talking to a stranger about quantum physics in wide, animated gestures.

After a few minutes of mildly desperate begging, Kuroo allowed Daichi to tug him outside, the latter comfortable in the welcome company of his friend and the secured anonymity of being lost in the blur of city nightlife.

Between Daichi’s complaint about his back aching and Kuroo’s resignation to the fact that the Old Spice-scented jacket he was wearing was not his, Daichi’s phone vibrated against his hip. He didn’t need to glance to his side to catch sight of Kuroo’s quirked eyebrow or the knowing curve of his smirk.

Their footsteps clicking over the pavement, the overhead street lighting reflected off Daichi’s mobile screen in a brief flash of light. He smiled at the first glimpse at his phone—and it wasn’t his raunchy wallpaper of Kakashi, but the Tumblr icon appearing in his notifications. He felt the corner of his mouth follow a telling uptick as he watched the incoming messages double, triple, quadruple.

“Keep me updated,” Kuroo said, hiking the suspiciously wet fur collar of his jacket high around his neck to buffer the chill of the winter air. “I live vicariously through my own friend’s sex lives as it is.”

Daichi snorted, his cheeks flushed with heat, veins warm with the buzz of alcohol. “Alrighty then.”

_ sweetsuga: Do dual-enrolment English, they said. _

_ sweetsuga: Read Animal Farm, they said. _

_ sweetsuga: It’ll be fun, they said. _

_ sweetsuga: Instead, I’ve spent half of my summer break regretting all my choices for senior year. So, I decided to make a firm decision regarding my future and now am currently eating mac and cheese whilst watching House Hunters. _

**thighmaster1: dudue**

**thighmaster1: man, ,**

**thighmaster1: I couod go for some mac nd cheese rn**

_ sweetsuga: But, the homemade macaroni and cheese or the box kind? _

**thighmaster1: boxmade becaus eim cheap af**

**thighmaster1: so is kurro thi**

**thighmaster1: ill buy lieh the good shit kinda  beeer but atula food??**

**thighmaster1: NOEP**

_ sweetsuga: Ah, so the drinking adventures of Daichi and Kuroo continue. _

**thighmaster1:  more liek daidchi & catdaddy!!**

_ sweetsuga: They say, in the humid Virginian noon, safely cocooned in the comfort of his bedroom, Suga’s long-suffering sigh could even be heard from the barren wasteland of Australia. _

_ sweetsuga: How much did you drink? _

**thighmaster1: enough lol**

**thighmaster1: ;)))))))))))))))))**

_ sweetsuga:  _ （； ¬ ＿ ¬)

**thighmaster1: okay bb y ##chill**

**thighmaster1: just a cuple rum & cokes**

**thighmaster1: kuroo got 3 shots yeet yete**

**thighmaster1: then he wanted these ashai beers**

**thighmaster1: like??? it was called asahi ?? I ahd 2 drink the jesus juice**

_ sweetsuga: So, you’re sufficiently wasted then? _

**thighmaster1: mcfuckin rekt**

**thighmaster1: its wh y I wanted do a maccas run**

**thighmaster1: or,,,. maccas walk?? Idk**

**thighmaster1: becaus eim hungry**

**thighmaster1: but kurro was al like~~~ noooo I got mac nd cheese!! etls save money!!**

_ sweetsuga: Daichi, please, macaroni and cheese is a worthy meal substitute. _

_ sweetsuga: And box made is better in my opinion anyway. _

**thighmaster1: idk ?**

**thighmaster1: man i just started eating this crap thsi year**

_ sweetsuga:  _ ⁽⁽ (੭ꐦ •̀Д•́ )੭* ⁾⁾ ᑦᵒᔿᵉ ᵒᐢᵎᵎ

_ sweetsuga: How did you not start eating macaroni and cheese until only this year? _

**thighmaster1: bcause i didnt growup in a coutnry that raised u 2 believe ~~it~~ in shitty gun control,, racsim and staple foods that incldue cheese**

_ sweetsuga: I’m… I would be insulted, but you’re right. _

_ sweetsuga: At least we have actual lemonade, though. _

**thighmaster1: weve establiched this!!! sprite & lemonade are the dame thinge!!**

**thighmaster1: **same**

_ sweetsuga: They’re not interchangeable! Sprite is lemon-lime flavored beverage, and it’s carbonated, whereas lemonade is a commonly homemade mixture of lemon, sugar, and water. _

“Lemonade discourse,” Daichi said.

If he’d been in Bokuto or Asahi’s company, the abrupt, offhand comment would’ve warranted confusion, but Kuroo understood it was a reference to his earlier promise of updating him on his and Suga’s tame conversation.

“Lemonade discourse?” Daichi surmised it was weird to think that the note of Kuroo’s voice was impressed, glimpsing a dangerous flash of teeth in the dim streetlight in his peripheral vision.

“Lemonade discourse.”

“Okay, inciting passionate discussion—I can see the appeal.”

**thighmaster1: its the same thing tho ?**

**thighmaster1: liek u got pub squash & sprite &solo??????**

**thighmaster1: nd it all tastes teh same?? ?**

_ sweetsuga: But lemonade isn’t soda! _

_ sweetsuga: It’s freshly squeezed juice tempered with a healthy amount of sugar and water! _

**thighmaster1: mmm,, sprite**

**thighmaster1: //gods gift of lemaode**

_ sweetsuga: The refreshing taste of real lemonade is an integral factor of summertime afternoons, okay? _

_ sweetsuga: Like another grievous cultural loss you were forced to suffer? The common American beverage you Australians are so unjustly deprive of—sweet iced tea? _

**thighmaster1: ah yess, cold tea with fuckign ice ctubes or whtavever**

**thighmaster1: but nithng is as swEET AS U BBYDOLL!!**

**thighmaster1: aw loka tme romaincing u**

**thighmaster1: romancing u with good speleling**

_ sweetsuga: You want to distract me from the uncomfortably foreign concept of lemonade in your country with classless flirting? _

**thighmaster1: sweetcheeks i just wana treat u right**

_ sweetsuga: I’m sure that’s your head talking and not your drunken teenage hormones. _

**thighmaster1: cmon!! baby~~**

**thighmaster1: like iamgine if  i could be there ,, mositreisuing ur hands or soemthng??**

_ sweetsuga: I can only dream. _

**thighmaster1: or kisisng the cute lil freckle on ur rightcheek??**

_ sweetsuga:  _ ❤︎⁄⁄꒰*  ॢ ꈍ ◡ ꈍ  ॢ ꒱.*˚ ‧

_ sweetsuga: Dadchi, love me tender. _

**thighmaster1: loveme sweet,,**

**thighmaster1:  imma rub ur goddman feet**

_ sweetsuga: Hey, you know I hate feet! They’re so gross. _

**thighmaster1: open ur mind 2 bdy limbs kiddo**

_ sweetsuga: That’s why I always wear cute socks that match my outfit. _

_ sweetsuga: Today I’m wearing some turquoise socks that have little otters on them. And like me, they’re very cute. _

“I didn’t know you started using ‘socks’ as a euphemism for dick,” Kuroo said, sounding far too thoughtful, concerning the subject matter

Daichi stopped, a warm, damp breath of air brushing the shell of his ear. “Your tongue should only be that fucking close to my ear if you’re planning on licking it, not reading my phone over my shoulder like a goddamn schoolgirl.”

“You’re surprisingly coherent whilst inebriated.”

Daichi was silent for a moment, before he said, in all seriousness, “I have no idea what you just said.”

Kuroo laughed, the noise seeming loud against the incessant buzz of background traffic. After slapping a hand across Daichi’s back, Kuroo slung an arm around his shoulders, urging Daichi further towards their final resting destination—meaning Kuroo’s rundown dorm room.

“I’m sure his dick is cute, though,” Daichi admitted in a conspiring whisper.

“We can only dream.”

_ sweetsuga: Oh my god, Walt just attacked me again! _

_ sweetsuga: I was wearing nice socks and they have little tiny holes in them! _

**thighmaster1: ununfortunate~~~~**

**thighmaster1: m yy socks are ulgy dark blu merino wool**

**thighmaster1: wiat**

**thighmaster1: im nto wearing socks**

_ sweetsuga: You’re drunk, honey. _

_ sweetsuga: I hope you’re safe. The city is a large, dangerous place that preys on the wide-eyed naïveté of homely, country-bred kangaroos. _

**thighmaster1: shhhhhhh were getitn gon a bus now**

**thighmaster1: 15mins & then hime**

“Do you ever think you’d go to America for your lil’ sweet piece of ass?”

At his bus-side seated, Daichi looked from the passing night-darkened scenery to Kuroo, sprawled across from him in a long-limbed slump and looking twice as bedraggled. Kuroo stretched his foot forward, his boot tapping Daichi’s sneakers in a playful prompt for his answer.

“Visiting? Heck yeah. But making a life there?” Daichi shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe?”

Kuroo made a noise of assent, propping his elbow against the glass pane of the window, his bent arm offering unstable purchase for his face to rest.

“How come you never found your own sweet piece of ass to follow to the ends of the earth for?”

“I might’ve had already. But then who really knows these days?” Kuroo was quiet for a moment of serious consideration—almost too serious, resulting in Daichi’s conclusion that Kuroo wasn’t as sober as he appeared to be. “That blond who we played volleyball with—I liked him.”

“Tsukishima? The tall bloke who wears glasses?” Daichi was stunned first, curious second. Well, Kuroo had always taken immense pleasure in teasing, and Tsukishima’s dry sense of humour and cutthroat derision seemed to pose an equal challenge to Kuroo’s incessant needling.

“He was interesting—fun. And I’m sure I could’ve cracked him with tasteful memes.”

“Romance by meme, hey? Now that’s my boy!” Daichi reached forward to slap Kuroo’s knee in good-natured camaraderie. “And what about that dude you’ve been gaming with for a while?”

“He’s something else entirely,” Kuroo said.

For Daichi, it was an otherworldly experience to watch his friend’s mouth soften into a kinder shape than the usual sharpness of his smirk, further enforcing the clear difference in how Kuroo felt about the two people. He shared tangible attachments to them both but had yet to solidify more than the inklings of feelings—of the possibility of more.

“You’ll find someone one day, bud. I’m banking on it.”

**thighmaster1: kurooss gottta cruSUSHHHHH**

_ sweetsuga: Really? On who? _

**thighmaster1: either,, this tall ass kid who can play voleeyball**

**thighmaster1: or some secret onsline gamer dued**

_ sweetsuga:  _ ₍ ˄ ⌓⃘ ˳̫̬  ⌓⃘ ˄ ₎ ค ˒˒

_ sweetsuga: Those vying for his affections sound mysterious. I like it. _

**thighmaster1: uhuh~~ bucko**

**thighmaster1: kuro does the vying here**

_ sweetsuga: Like how you vied for my affections? _

**thighmaster1: obvious?? HornY??**

_ sweetsuga: Endearing, Daichi. You were endearing. _

**thighmaster1: aye aye**

**thighmaster1: ;)))))))))))))))**

**thighmaster1: dis dick stil gotit**

Their conversation ended with a quick farewell when Kuroo urged Daichi out of the warmth of the bus and into the bracing cold, navigating their way through college campus to his dorm. The feat was completed with ease, Kuroo having already practised it a thousand times over—however, his greatest ordeal was the two flights of stairs Kuroo helped Daichi to climb upwards.

“Can we see Akaashi?” Daichi asked, stumbling down the corridor, past Kuroo’s room. He squinted at the numbers marking the doors, his mind working to grasp the location of wherever the fuck Akaashi’s was.

“He’s probably with Bokuto.” Kuroo was following Daichi from behind at a slower pace, watching him stumble and bang on stranger’s doors with a commendably small show of amusement.

“Oh, I found it,” Daichi announced, jiggling the doorknob, “I knew he was here. Akaashi?  _ Akaashi! _ ”

Kuroo leaned on the doorframe, raising no hand to rouse Akaashi in the early hours of morning. On the last fucking Saturday of semester break. And, in all truth, Daichi expected his interest to soon wane after it became apparent Akaashi was asleep, or ignoring them—but he did not expect Akaashi to open the door, unusually dishevelled, wearing a shirt that hung too large in the chest and arms to be his.

Daichi waved. “Um, hey.”

“Daichi?” A startled gasp—Bokuto.

“Bokuto?” A stage whisper—Kuroo.

“ _ Kuroo? _ ” A cry in unison.

Akaashi sighed, closing the door behind them, knowing the night was far from over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, firstly: blame lauren for this kuroo-centered chapter.
> 
> also, secondly: me and lauren have reached an impasse. the thing is, she is a dedicated lover of kurotsuki and i am more partial to kuroken, hence the allusions to both ships in this chapter. and we both agreed that the choice should be posed to u guys rather than us battling it out for who kuroo hooks up with in the end. so, faithful readers, i ask u this: would u prefer endgame kurotsuki or kuroken?


	17. Celebrate Good Times, Come On!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _sweetsuga: Although I really want to be close to you physically, so I guess this will have to do for a cheap alternative._
> 
> **thighmaster1: alrigth then mate**
> 
> **thighmaster1: put me down fro scared & horny**

**thighmaster1 sent a photo.**

**thighmaster1: is dis u?**

_sweetsuga: In what realm of possibility would you even consider me to share any similarities with a muscled anime Jesus?_

**thighmaster1: BeUCAUSE HE JACKED AF**

**thighmaster1: //LIEK U JACKED MY HEART**

**thighmaster1: <333**

_sweetsuga: Charmed, I’m sure._

**thighmaster1: bru h**

**thighmaster1: bRo**

_sweetsuga: Yes? What’s up?_

**thighmaster1: d u De**

**thighmaster1: are u forgetitng what day it si??**

Frowning, Suga paused to check the date and time—confirming that there was nothing remarkably special at first glance—before returning to his conversation with Daichi.

_sweetsuga: The day some obscure Naruto movie was released half a decay ago?_

**thighmaster1: lol~~ iw ish**

**thighmaster1: but u,, really dont know??**

**thighmaster1: frankly , BITCH, im hurt**

**thighmaster1: beatrayed almost**

**thighmaster1:  wounded even**

_sweetsuga: What’s the significance of today then?_

**thighmaster1: hmmm**

_sweetsuga:_ (๑‾᷆д‾᷇๑)

**thighmaster1: hhmMM**

_sweetsuga: Daichi?_

**thighmaster1: tis th e day we first started tlaking**

Suga coughed, sleepy-time tea spluttering over the porcelain rim of the Smithsonian Museum mug his dad had bought for him. He set the mug down on his bedside table, drawing his hand back into the safe perimeter of his bed to narrowly avoid entering into the dangerous scope of Walt’s stealth-like attack. Shifting backward, spine aligning with the smooth surface of the wall, Suga moved into a more optimal position to concentrate, and then began to type.

_sweetsuga: Let’s just take a moment here._

_sweetsuga: Because I would never forget such a significant milestone, and usually you’re the one to forget that there’s a time zone difference between us, nonetheless the exact date we met._

_sweetsuga: And we started talking just before Labor Day, so it wasn’t until early September that the seeds of our relationship were first rooted and coaxed into bloom, not August._

**thighmaster1: but!! we talked abotut this ebfore!!**

**thighmaster1: &u said late august**

_sweetsuga: It was during the last week before school started, mate._

**thighmaster1: did u jsut say mate,, maTE**

_sweetsuga: I certainly did, pal._

**thighmaster1: well then ahv e a drink, friend**

_sweetsuga: Take a fucking sip, babes._

**thighmaster1: chug a beer, comrade in (myy tende r)) arms**

_sweetsuga: I politely decline, buddy._

**thighmaster1: how bout sime assorted nuts then, kiddo??**

_sweetsuga: I prefer to think of my body as a temple and would rather not consume filthy nuts into myself, brother._

**thighmaster1: evey temple can hae  a little party,  bruh**

**thighmaster1: esp when theres nuts invovled,, dued**

_sweetsuga: My flesh is worthy of proper devotion and worship, not sacrilege._

**thighmaster1: ohooho sextign i see, sexmonkey**

**thighmaster1: WIAT U DIDNT DO TEH THING!!**

**thighmaster1: THE FRIEND-BUDYD-PAL THING !**

**thighmaster1: but u alsmot sexted,,**

**thighmaster1: myy ltitle eagle is growing up :’))))**

_sweetsuga: It’ll take at least three years before I’m willing to attempt sexting._

**thighmaster1: ud serisouly try sexing?? 4 me??**

_sweetsuga: Sexting? Maybe._

**thighmaster1: *nuts***

Suga smiled, feeling emboldened, and comforted in the assurance that he had implicit knowledge of the rudimentary basics of Daichi’s personality. Of his behavior—casual, charming, confident—and then Daichi’s appearance—the shade of his skin, his quickness to smile, his broad, _broad_ shoulders. And, _oh my_ , how Suga had thought about how Daichi’s voice, and how his mind had drifted to recall the deep, rich tenor in the unassuming darkness of night.

He loved all facets of Daichi’s character, of the wild fluctuation between the amiable simplicity of a well-worn sense of farmer-inspired fashion and the frequently disarming smile, laugh, or off-cast comment of honest affection. It was true that Suga still withheld reservations concerning their long-distance relationship, but he was experiencing a gradual likening to the concept of him _wanting_ more—the indulgence in physical contact, wordless comfort, _sex_.

And, well, Suga was at least willing to try with Daichi.

_sweetsuga: But sexing? Yes, most definitely._

**thighmaster1: ohhh!~~~**

**thighmaster1: wait a mintue here**

**thighmaster1: sexing? as in The Sex??????**

**thighmaster1: like are we tlaking sexting here or actual sxing we itnend to do when we meet ??**

_sweetsuga: Both sound doable, although…_

**thighmaster1: domNT LEAVE ME HANGING ASHSOLE**

_sweetsuga: I would prefer sex in the corporeal sense._

**thighmaster1: //explain waht the fuck is corepreal is**

**thighmaster1: imbetwen nutting &crakcing a dictionary open**

_sweetsuga: I want to be there with you, not_ _staring at_ _a cold image of you on a computer screen, or blinking at my phone, waiting for you to reply._

_sweetsuga: But… I don’t know where or when or how that would happen. And it’s not like I don’t trust you to wait for me or whatever, but sometimes it hurts to think about how far apart we are, of how difficult it is to work around._

_sweetsuga: It aches, Daichi. To want to be with you but knowing I can’t do such a thing easily._

**thighmaster1: babe,,**

**thighmaster1: u talked 2 noya at all altelly??**

**thighmaster1: *lately?**

_sweetsuga: I haven’t hung out with him in a while, but I’ll see him at school soon._

_sweetsuga: Why?_

**thighmaster1: asahi said that because noya came to australai last time..,**

**thighmaster1: then hed want 2 go to america fr him**

**thighmaster1: nd my son jesus is a shy noodle ;-; so ofc his parents were worried ;-;**

**thighmaster1: and ebcause his dad is friends with my dad like**

**thighmaster1: they asked me fi I wanted 2 like..**

**thighmaster1: go with him**

**thighmaster1: liek on the plane**

**thighmaster1: over the seas~~**

**thighmaster1: to the great state s of murica?? with sweet bby jesus asahi??**

**thighmaster1: & possibly meet u??? idk ?????maybe???**

Suga’s heart faltered, and his cheeks flooded with heat. Before he thought had taken complete form in his mind, his fingertips were skating over the keyboard in a flurry of movement.

_sweetsuga: Are you_

Licking his lips, Suga flexed his fingers and focused on typing a coherent response.

_sweetsuga: Daichi, are you telling me that you might be flying over to America with Asahi in the possible near future? Or if I’d like you to come over to visit me?_

**thighmaster1: um,,**

**thighmaster1: yes to the above?? all of ti ?**

_sweetsuga: So, are you going to ask me or not then?_

**thighmaster1: right dued did u want 2 come voer??**

**thighmaster1: oops soz~~ we just saked the same thing**

_sweetsuga: Sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt!_

Suga paused, waiting for Daichi to reply—and then acted on his own accord when it was clear Daichi wasn’t being initiative.

_sweetsuga: Daichi? Do you just want me to tell you if I’d like to meet you or not?_

**thighmaster1: IM WATING FR A REPSONSE BITVH**

**thighmaster1: fuck we kkep itnerupting each other**

_sweetsuga: I just asked you if you wanted to ask me or you wanted me to tell!_

**thighmaster1: alright alright alright**

**thighmaster1: wait a sec**

**thighmaster1: //imma tlak now**

_sweetsuga: Okay, I’m listening now. No talking. No interruptions from this moment forth._

**thighmaster1: cool beans B)**

**thighmaster1: YES SO!!!!!!!**

**thighmaster1: i meant to use~~~ nd not !!**

**thighmaster1:  now ijust look eager omg me@ me: chill pls**

_sweetsuga: You’re rambling, honey._

**thighmaster1: i know im frekaing out okay**

**thighmaster1: YES SP~~~~**

**thighmaster1: suga?**

**thighmaster1: my baby??**

**thighmaster1:  my love macine?? m y shining light???**

_sweetsuga: Yes, my perfectly baked snickerdoodle?_

**thighmaster1: during the Christmas break,,**

**thighmaster1: i may perhaps be fucking coming up 2 fukcing america with fcking asahi**

**thighmaster1: and fuck**

**thighmaster1: if i did liek would u wanaa meet?**

_sweetsuga: Fuck. Yes._

**thighmaster1: aaaaaaaaaaaaaAHAHHAHHHH**

_sweetsuga: AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!_

**thighmaster1: are u serious tho?**

**thighmaster1: like u’d relaly wanna meet me**

**thighmaster1: because?????? im not as cool and hot as u think i am ????**

Frowning, Suga stretched his hand across the twisted fabric of his bedsheets to find the corded string of his charger. He pulled his mobile free, drawing it close to his chest.

**thighmaster1: suga??**

**thighmaster1: sUGA????????????????**

**thighmaster1: coem back pls my love**

_sweetsuga: Wait, and I’ll prove how much I want to see you. Because I’m at a point where I’m comfortable to do a lot of things with you, to be closer to you, even if it’s not physically._

_sweetsuga: Although I really want to be close to you physically, so I guess this will have to do for a cheap alternative._

**thighmaster1: alrigth then mate**

**thighmaster1: put me down fro scared & horny**

Suga pushed his Mac book from his lap, swinging his feet to the floor to walk across his room towards his full-length mirror. There, staring at the image of himself in the glass, Suga felt his resolve waver—he hadn’t done anything like this before, he had never felt inclined to do so.

However, Daichi was steadily making a habit of compelling Suga to think that he could act with the same unrestrained freedom as he did, and today was no exception.

Gripping the hem of his oversized sleeping shirt, Suga tugged it overhead. He forced the tension in his frame to relax, and dropped the piece clothing to the ground. Pausing for a moment of serious consideration, Suga proceeded to strip his socks from his feet—they were a comfortable fit, but a pattern of cats holding lightsabers didn’t serve a purpose beyond a gimmick.

He opened Snapchat, daring to glance from the camera to his reflection—exposed, the golden glow of dim lamplight cast over creamy skin and silver, downy-soft hair, modesty preserved in the slim gray boxers he still wore.

Before an appropriate amount of time had lapsed, before he was forced to dwell on his embarrassment or self-consciousness, Suga was looking at a photo of himself. He hardly remembered it, simply following a blind instinct to adopt a pose similar to Oikawa’s selfie-perfect posture—pressing a hand to his cocked his hip, tilting his head to the side and mouth widening into a smile.

Although his expression wasn’t characterized by the same alluring confidence as Oikawa’s, Suga felt as if his giddy nervousness was more genuine, somehow charming in the flash of sincerity, despite the impish undertones. Instead of the clear innuendo that characterised nudes—or, however close Suga had gotten to taking a nude, whatever—it seemed intimate rather than sexual, mirroring the same carefree appeal of Daichi’s commonly half-naked selfies.

Suga smiled, sending it to Daichi in a quick, decisive press of his fingertips to his phone screen. He didn’t act in his haste to forget the deed, but in his excitement for Daichi to see, for him to react to something he had long waited for.

Growing impatient in a span of a few seconds, Suga raised his phone again, taking another snapchat as he turned his body, framing in his back in the glass reflection. It highlighted the supple slope of his spine, leading to the delicate curve of his ass, almost nothing left to the imagination in the thin fabric of his underwear. He’d looked backward, chin brushing over his shoulder to reveal a shyer, softer smile than his first.

He’d received Daichi’s responding snapchat within the same instant he’d sent the second picture.

With an overwhelming sense of predictability, Daichi’s answer equally matched Suga’s own level of nudity. His shirt and jumper were pulled high up to his neck despite the chill of winter, and his head thrown back in what Suga assumed was a burst of hearty laughter. The caption was short, punctuated with a roundabout Australian exclamation of pleasant surprise— _u cheeky bastard!_

Daichi’s following snapchat comprised of a blurred image with a nonsensical caption. The next was a dramatic portrayal of The Thinker, as Daichi had pressed a fist to his closed mouth, his gaze distant with serious thought, proclaiming he had glimpsed heaven—and it existed in the form of Suga’s ass.

It wasn’t long before Suga’s mobile buzzed with a slew of incoming Tumblr messages.

**thighmaster1: !!!**

**thighmaster1: sugaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHH**

**thighmaster1: I CANNOT BELIVE UT**

**thighmaster1: U KINDA SENT ME NDUES**

**thighmaster1: &UR ASS**

**thighmaster1: LIKE,, UR FUKCING A S S**

**thighmaster1: //IM THIS CLOSE TO SEEING UR ASS**

**thighmaster1: //OF KNOWING IT INTIMTALEY**

**thighmaster1: can we just**

**thighmaster1: take a moment here~~**

**thighmaster1: because imma nut in 0.335892 secons**

**thighmaster1: but im a v happy guy rn**

**thighmaster1: &im v glad u wanna meet me that much ud take nudes as like,.. a prelude to what we’d do when we meet**

**thighmaster1:  but also bby im super happy u feel comfotbale enough 2 send me the nudes <3 im so proud of u sugarpie <33 that u wanna be sexy with me <333333**

_sweetsuga: This sounds so corny, but, I’m just really grateful I met you Daichi._

_sweetsuga: And… Oh my god, this is really weird to admit to, but I’d wanted to send you something for a while now, ever since we Skyped._

_sweetsuga: Not that I didn’t like you any less before we Skyped! It’s just… it’s hard when you want to be with someone you haven’t properly met yet, or touched. Someone I needed to explain to my parents about being one of closest friends, whom I already trusted and cherished, maybe more than Oikawa or Kenma._

**thighmaster1: aw babe :’)))))))**

**thighmaster1:  i was gonna send u nudes but then i relasied i already had**

_sweetsuga: You always know how to ruin a moment, don’t you?_

**thighmaster1: my mum tesases me about u, ya know??**

**thighmaster1: & when my dad walks in on m e and u skyping he freaks the  fuck outand leaves the house 2 “give me nd my boyfreind some private time”**

_sweetsuga: When has you dad ever walked in on our Skype sessions?_

**thighmaster1: liek,, eveyr single time??**

**thighmaster1: thats why iw get sad w ehn  the dogs leave~~ because they follow daddio out**

_sweetsuga: Wow. I wanna meet him now._

**thighmaster1: but my MUM ALREADY WANTS OT MEET U**

_sweetsuga: REALLY? CAN WE DO THAT NEXT TIME?_

**thighmaster1: NOONOOOOOO**

**thighmaster1: SHED EMBARRAS ME**

_sweetsuga: I like her already._

**thighmaster1: -.-**

**thighmaster1: pls**

**thighmaster1: dont toy wiht my heart master**

_sweetsuga: If you send me nudes, I’ll ignore the weird master-servant kink._

**thighmaster1: are u?????**

**thighmaster1: instigating ??? sexy thingS????**

_sweetsuga: Wouldn’t you like to know?_

_sweetsuga:_ ᕕ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )ᕗ

**thighmaster1: WIAT LEMME WHIP YM DICK OUT**

**thighmaster1: nah bby i just want 2 love and support u <3**

**thighmaster1: dics or no dicks ;)))**

Suga rested a hand over his abdomen, feeling laughter reverberate through his bones, happiness pooling beneath his sternum. He knew that whatever transpired between him and Daichi now, he would look forward to it, because Suga was prepared for their uncertain future to unfold, and he trusted Daichi to make him happy for the whole of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, that was sappy af.
> 
> and u can also pretty much guess that the kuroken won the last voting poll (rip lauren) but i did notice a surprising contender for poly!kuroo, even tho kuroken still blazed a triumphant trail to victory. but it was weird, because i legit met the nicest poly couple yesterday (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧ and one of them was a cute pansexual girl (rip lauren again).


	18. Cryptids And Creepy-Ass Clowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daichi paused, sparing a moment of recollection before asking, “Did you just call me your boyfriend?”
> 
> “Uh, no.” Suga’s gaze darted aside, nervous.

Daichi hadn’t planned to forgo an entirely appropriate greeting when he first glimpsed the receiving video of Suga over Skype, however, it was too late to stop.

“ _Gon_ ,” he said, deep and suggestive, the sound akin to a moan.

“Excuse me?”

“ _Gooooooooooon_.”

“Daichi,” Suga started, unseen to him, but his tone already serious four seconds into their Skype call, “pray tell, what in the heck are you doing?”

“I was watching  _Hunter x Hunter_ last night,” Daichi explained, glancing from the carnage of the TV screen to the laptop propped at the base of it, “and then this bitch who keeps fucking using his Lancer on me me now is called hisokaznipplez, so it felt kinda natural.”

“What time is it there?”

Daichi shrugged. “Just past ten, I don’t know.” Air hissed through his clenched teeth in an angry breath as his death was met online, and he gulped the remaining dregs of his tea before respawning.

“Don’t you have work tomorrow—or, well, today?”

“Yeah, but I got to play in a party with Kuroo and Akaashi before because Kuroo finally convinced him to play with him as a guest.”

“That sound’s nice,” Suga said, interested despite Daichi’s complete immersion in his game. “Are they still playing with you now?”

Quietness lingered, broken only when Daichi swore as he was killed again—hisokaznipplez may have had the dumbest, most hilarious name ever, but he was a decent shot. “Nah, we finished campaign on insane difficulty and they ditched me, so I’m settling for online multiplayer.”

“What’s _Campaign_? I thought you were playing _Gears of War 4_.”

Daichi stopped, glancing at Suga for the first time since their call had connected, light reflected in his mirthful gaze. He was uncaring about his vulnerable position in-game, or that he’d forsaken winning MVP. Because his conversation with Suga now seemed a more entertaining alternative to stupid online achievements, validation be damned.

“Um, babe, the thing is—campaign is the story mode of the game,” Daichi explained, “it’s not a completely fucking different thing to another game. All games normally have campaign, and then online or offline multiplayer too.”

Suga flushed, although he was quick to argue, “I don’t game, Daichi! The closest I get to it is Kenma’s Nintendo! I have no idea what you’re saying—I just wanted to be supportive of your weird hobbies.”

“I’m a filthy casual gamer and I still know what campaign is, you fucking noob.”

“You can’t talk, weeb.”

If Daichi hadn’t currently been dedicated to a spectacularly abysmal loss in a brutal game of team deathmatch, he would’ve delivered a whip-smart retort to compensate for his distracted online offense. However, it had long become apparent that Daichi could not multitask, especially when a cute boy—or,  _his_ cute boy, to be exact—was involved.

“What’s that I hear? Is it defeated silence?”

“Give me a second here.”

“Or tired resignation?”

Checking the rankings—to confirm he was, in fact, fucking losing—Daichi quit the game, swinging around in the seat of his chair in a wide arc, his exhale a long, drawn-out affair.

Suga seemed to take pity on him, because he promptly dropped his teasing lilt. “Rough game, hey?”

“It’s better now you’re here, babe.”

Daichi had closed his eyes, the back of his head resting on the padded cushioning of his chair, but he was sure Suga was blushing. He could feel it.

He straightened, more sprightly than he had been a moment before. “When you going to school?”

“I got about an hour, I think.”

“Choose what to wear yet?”

Suga pushed his laptop across his lap, and Daichi had an interrupted view of Suga’s off-white ceiling until the screen was adjusted, angled downwards. “Just deciding on what socks to wear,” Suga said, stepping backwards from the bed so Daichi had an ideal view of is outfit, the receiving video ending just below Suga’s neck.

“Twirl for me, bitch.”

For a moment, Suga stood with his hands on his hips in an obvious sign of his dissatisfaction, however he soon relented, turning in a slow circle. Pursing his lips, Daichi wolf-whistled, causing Suga to bend down for the simple purpose to glare at him.

“Be serious,” he chastised. “I don’t model for just anyone.”

“Okay, chill. I got you.”

Daichi spared a few seconds to scrutinise Suga’s outfit—a grey cable-knit sweater reaching the end of his fingertips, dark blue jeans, a shimmer of white-gold accentuating the curve of his cheekbones, lips wet with the shine of gloss.

“I wanna kiss you so bad, man,” he mused, speaking his own thoughts freely rather than offering Suga a constructive compliment.

Suga’s arm folded across his stomach, his hand curling around his elbow in a universal indication of embarrassment. “Did you see my socks, though?”

Blaming Suga’s sudden shyness on the short time between their first meeting and now, Daichi shrugged in unaffected calmness. “Nah, I didn’t.”

“Be warned, but they’re colour-coordinated with my sweater.”

Daichi was disbelieving. “No way.”

“Yes way.” To further affirm his statement, Suga stretched his foot out, proudly display his socks in the direct view of his camera, heel perched on the edge of his bed.

“Well, I’ll be fucked.”

Suga merely preened.

“Just how much different socks do you have?” Daichi asked, dubious and unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

Holding his finger out in a gesture to wait, Suga vanished from the video, returning with an armful of socks less than two minutes later. He knelt in front of his amassed trove, smiling at the impressive collection.

“So, I’m saving the best ones for last, but these are just”—he pulled two socks out of the bundle, and brandishing the multi-coloured fabric close to the camera, filling Daichi’s vision with it—“normal striped socks. Still cute, though.”

“Do go on,” Daichi said, not unkindly. If Suga would feign interest in his hobbies—which was gaming and making dick jokes—then the least Daichi could do was the same for him.

“Then these pink ones with cartoon monkeys and bananas, and Cheshire cats, and—oh my god! I forgot I had these.” Suppressing a squeal of excitement, Suga held the pair of socks in front of him like a prized treasure, showing them to Daichi a moment later. “Look at these little ostriches! They have fluffy tails, Daichi—I love them.”

“Then a green pair with a pattern of foxes on them, Mickey Mouse ones with grips so you can, like, climb up walls and stuff.” Daichi snorted, unhooking the headset from his neck, but Suga continued, oblivious. “And my favourite winter socks with festive baby sloths in tiny hats. Like, you can jingle the bells on their hats too, it’s amazing.”

“Wait, Suga, how about I… jingle your bells for you?”

“I respect your dedication to making innuendoes at inopportune moments,” Suga said in a flat tone on insouciance, “but this precious time is reserved purely for socks, not penises.”

“Yeah, fine. I’ll hold myself back.”

“Alright, next up we have ones with cheetahs on them because they’re the coolest cats—”

“It looks like a puma.”

“It has the body of a cheetah, okay?” Suga gritted out through clenched teeth.

The corner of Daichi’s mouth curved upwards, amused, but he remained silent.

“Now, to follow the theme of cats, we have some in glitter, and some orange-and-black Halloween ones, and unicorn-cats riding on magical beams of sparkling rainbows.” Suga halted, admiring the aforementioned unicorn-cat socks in his grasp, his expression fond. “It was so gay I had to get these.”

“Nice.”

“Now, a pair with animal pawprints, more Christmas socks with some penguins, chubby snowman, teddy bears with bauble hats, and Hello Kitty ones I can and have worn to the gym before.”

“Really?” Daichi asked, curious.

“Yeah,” Suga said, nodding in affirmation. “The weird thing was that Oikawa was the one embarrassed by me wearing them in public, but Iwaizumi just smiled and told me that I was his favourite person.”

“Fuck, mate.” Daichi was almost impressed. “How did the roaster take it then?”

“He moved into the guest room and didn’t talk to me or Iwaizumi for three days.”

Striking his fist against the wooden desk, Daichi pressed a hand over his mouth to muffle the uncontrollable sound of his laughter. “Bloody hell!” After his mirth subsided to a steady ebb of contentment, Daichi’s chest rose at the intake of large gulps of air in an attempt to regain his composure. “I fucking love that dude.”

“I’ll tell you, it was a rough three days for Oikawa.” A considering pause. “I’m surprised he even lasted that long.”

“Same here.”

Suga cleared his throat, more for theatrical purposes than logical. “Now, for the final reveal. Some say he’s a myth, a legend, but I like to think that he exists… And I have evidence…”

“That better not be—”

“Bigfoot!” Suga exclaimed, presenting the socks with a flourish, the characteristic shape of the famed cryptid sewn into the fabric.

“You know what they say about big feet, huh?”

“Don’t you mean Bigfoot?”

Daichi narrowed his eyes. “I said big feet—”

“They try to tell you he’s not real but I’ve seen him, I have proof, I _believe_ —”

Throwing his head back in laughter, Daichi effectively silenced Suga. “Can you,” he said between wheezing breaths, “like, fucking not? I’m never prepared for your weird supernatural obsession.”

“You could almost say it’s… not natural.”

“Get out,” Daichi snorted.

He grinned as he watched Suga’s composure falter, his too-serious expression easing into a wide smile of unabashed delight, his gaze practically alight. Suga laughed, bright and twinkling, so unlike Daichi’s booming guffaws. When their amusement had faded, mellowing into a comfortable contentedness of that spent in good company, Suga looked at Daichi, warm with affection.

“You really like socks that much?” Daichi heard himself ask, not knowing what kind of embarrassing confessions he might’ve spouted if he had not spoken quickly.

“I like cryptids that much.”

Daichi made a throaty noise of complaint. “Not with MonsterQuest again. Please.”

“I’m sorry if I like learning the truth about cryptids the government tried to hide from us.”

Chuckling under his breath, Daichi slid further down his seat, twining his fingers over his stomach. The bulk of his headset pressed into the skin of his neck, and he pushed the microphone away from the corner of his mouth before asking, “How late did you stay up last night watching that shit?”

“Only quarter past one,” Suga admitted, somehow looking thrice as preppy as Daichi did in the mornings with half as much sleep.

“You didn’t shower or take your makeup off till one did you, mate?”

Cocking his head to the side, Suga posed in his usual cheeky fashion—eyes creasing with happiness, a peace sign held just below the glimmer of his impish smile. It was a clear, unashamed admission of guilt on Suga’s part, further affirming Daichi’s belief that Suga had the worst fucking sleeping schedule known to man.

The door to Daichi’s room creaked, a shaft of outside light cutting through the darkness. “Daichi, I’m going to bed now,” a sleepy voice murmured, “don’t stay up too late—” Daichi turned, watching his mum take a step closer, peering at his laptop screen. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“Um, yeah, it’s him.” His heartbeat echoed loud in his chest, a steady thump of nervousness.

“Oh, hi!” His mum approached Daichi at a frightening pace, leaning over him so her face was visible in the outgoing video.

Daichi leaned back, exhaled—his defeat was imminent.

“My son better not being keeping you up too late, Suga.”

“No, it’s fine!” Suga said animatedly. “It’s morning here anyway, I’m going to school soon.”

“Oh yeah, I forget about the time difference.”

Suga chuckled, waving his hand in dismissal of Daichi’s mum’s worries. “It’s normal. Daichi does the same thing all the time.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.” At Daichi’s glare, his mum feigned innocence. “What, hon? I’m just saying that your boyfriend can be the brains of the relationship and you can be the brawn.”

“I like that concept.”

“Me too.”

“Okay,” Daichi interrupted, leaning forward in a subtle attempt to push his mum aside, “you done yet? Can I return to talking to my friend in my Skype call now?

“So, how’s the weather?” Unfazed, his mum continued, ignoring Daichi.

“Unpredictable, but it’s fall, so it’s just starting to get cooler. It’s perfect sweater weather.”

“We’re just starting to heat up, god forbid. I gotta take my family and the dogs down to the river for the first swim of the season soon.”

“What the hell, Mum?” Daichi questioned. “It’s too bloody cold to go swimming.”

“Watch your bloody language.”

Suga laughed again, obviously delighted with Daichi mum’s relentless tendency to tease. Daichi merely stared at the illuminated power button on his Xbox, resigned to his fate that he was losing Suga to his mother’s—obviously superior—charm.

“Fine,” his mum sighed, “look, I’m leaving.” She drew back from the laptop, brushing a hand through Daichi’s hair. “Don’t stay up too late now, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Sure, goodnight!” A few seconds after Daichi’s mum had disappeared from view, Suga leaned forward, capturing Daichi’s attention in a decisive snap of his fingers. “Daichi,” he announced, “your mom’s a lot nicer than you.”

“Wanna hear the first recorded dick joke.”

Suga didn’t see it fit to answer such a wild change in subject matter to deflect from the face Daichi’s mum _was_ a more congenial figure than him, but Daichi did as he usually did—and made a dirty innuendo.

“What hangs at a man’s thighs and wants to poke a hole that it’s often poked before?”

Suga sighed, his mouth thinning into an unimpressed line. “A dick?”

Pressing a hand to his chest, Daichi made a noise of scandalised offence. “Ye of little faith.”

“More like me of my slow desensitisation to witty repertoire beyond my boyfriend’s unoriginal dick jokes.”

“You’re so cute.”

Suga stilled. “What?”

In lieu of answering, Daichi propped his chin in his hand, adopting the usual position of those who were content to stare in open adoration, in awed wonderment. He delighted in watching Suga’s face colour with embarrassment, his blush only deepening when he noticed Daichi’s grin, and Suga moved to hide his bashful smile behind the fan of his fingers.

It certainly wasn’t the first time Daichi had thought himself fortunate to have met Suga, or known him as intimately as he did now—and he knew it would be a long time coming before he ever thought it’d be the last.

Daichi paused, sparing a moment of recollection before asking, “Did you just call me your boyfriend?”

“Uh, no.” Suga’s gaze darted aside, nervous.

“I won’t wait till you’re ripe before fighting you, Gon.”

Eyes focusing on Daichi now, Suga’s mouth opened in innocent confusion. “What?”

“Gon.”

“Daichi, please. I beg you.”

“ _Gon._ ”

“No. Stop.”

“ _Gon!_ ”

“Oh my God, you sound like you’re having a freaking orgasm,” Suga dismayed, hands fluttering to cover his face. “Stop it or I’m never sending you nudes again. Or ever talking to you.”

“ _Gooooon!”_

“Okay, fine—I called you my boyfriend. You happy?”

“Sure am, my sweet, unplucked fruit.” Daichi grinned, baring too much teeth and gum for it to be sincere, more alike to a triumphant flash of childish glee.

Absent of the previous enchantment which had rendered Suga speechless, he chose to glare at Daichi now, the flush having long since faded from his cheeks. Daichi shifted in his seat, affected by the weight of Suga’s keen scrutiny, felt even across the gaping maw of distance between them.

“I can drop the whole ‘waiting till you’re ripe’ thing,” Daichi bargained, “but you can’t stop me moaning, alright?” He thumped his chest twice before holding his hand out in peace sign. “I gotta keep true to Hisoka or I ain’t worthy to speak Gon’s name.”

“Isn’t Gon that kid in the green shorts?”

“Hisoka’s a fucking weird dude, okay? He dresses like a clown and shit. Let me live.”

“I almost can’t… believe it.”

“Believe this, shithead,” Daichi said, extending his hand close to his camera, middle finger raised.

“Wow, you’re so romantic, Daichi,” Suga deadpanned. “Make me yours. Take me, touch me, hold me in your strong arms—”

“More like strong thighs, mate.” Daichi swung his leg onto the surface his desk, cringing at the loud, ringing impact of his heel to wood. After a moment to ensure his parents weren’t awoken, he slapped the inside of his knee, his outgoing video a blurred, too-close image of half his leg. “Fucking look at this shit, aye?”

He hadn’t heard the patter of footsteps in the corridor, or the door opening, but the next thing Daichi knew his mum was saying, “Daichi, hon? Can you keep the noise down while I’m trying to have some private time with your dad?”

“Mum! Oh my god, can you not?” Acting on the pure instinct to kill, Daichi spun around in his rotating chair, ripping one of his socks to toss it in the general direction of the worst parent ever.

“I’m kidding,” she said, dodging Daichi’s throw with her hands raised in defence. “I was making a joke, okay? Take a chill pill.”

“Stop trying to be one of the cool kids, Mum.”

“I’m not a regular Mum, I’m a cool Mum.”

Daichi attempted—and failed miserably—to school his expression, before bursting into laughter, and not for the first, nor the last, time that night. His mum seemed appeased with his reaction, grinning at her son, her gaze flickering to Suga’s for a moment in the time lost between Daichi straightening, heaving calming breaths.

“You’re going to sleep soon, right?” She asked, choosing to retreat to the threshold of his room now.

“Yeah, Mum. I’ll go to bed in, like, half an hour or something.”

“Alright, hon.” Fingers curled around Daichi’s doorknob, she waved at Daichi’s computer. “Night, Suga. Make sure he gets to bed on time, okay?”

“I got it, goodnight!”

The door clicked shut, narrowing the room’s occupants to Daichi and a grainy video again.

“I like your mom, she’s really funny,” Suga confessed in an abrupt rush of air, as if the thought had first struck him. “She reminds me a lot of you.”

“Don’t make me say I love my mum aloud, dude.”

“I think I could love her pretty easily,” Suga’s voice had quieted, softening with breathless honesty. Staring at Suga, Daichi had to wonder if they were simply talking about his mum—or if it was a veiled reference to something deeper, something that should be reserved for when they would meet.

“Two more months, babe.” It wasn’t a grand declaration, or an ode—hell, it was barely even a promise, but it was the most Daichi could offer.

“Yeah,” Suga murmured, “I know. Trust me, I do.”

“Just a little bit longer, Suga.”

Suga’s smile was a sad flash of emotion, the kind used to reminisce loved ones who were lost, or a glimmer of hope when there was none left to cling to. It was the same as waiting impatiently, desperately wanting it to end so you could be where you wanted, with who you wanted.

“I think I love you, Daichi.”

His response was automatic. “Ditto, mate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOR THOSE OF U WHO DON'T WATCH HUNTER X HUNTER, HISOKA IS A WEIRD CLOWN WHO DOES SHIT [LIKE THIS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JjrczzikEo4)!
> 
> confirmed: lauren owns every pair of socks mentioned, likes my mum more than me, and didn't know what campaign meant in a gaming context. tragic.
> 
> also confirmed: i've done a rough outline for this fic, and it should be finished in under about 10 more chapters, most likely with a smutty companion piece for a more ~nsfw~ ending. and i'm gonna tell u now that it doesn't strictly end when daichi and suga meet, but rather when their future together is assured. stay tuned, kiddos.


	19. I Love You A Latte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _sweetsuga: Your powers of perception never cease to amaze me, Dadchi._
> 
> **thighmaster1: i thin k uve upgraded 2 daddychi mate**

**thighmaster1: “help b e assistant coach for ur old highschool team @the meblounre volleyball cpmepteiion” coach uka i siad**

**thighmaster1: “ittll be fun & infromative”  mr takeda said**

**thighmaster1: more like~~ wathc everyone around u flirt or have gay feelins~~**

_sweetsuga: You just witnessed a high school team of students you helped coach win undefeated in their division at a national level, and you’re more concerned with the romantic interludes of your peers?_

**thighmaster1: heck ye**

**thighmaster1:  how else am i sipposed to pass this 12hr busride home??**

_sweetsuga: With a thoughtful yet melancholic reflection on your achievements?_

**thighmaster1: my acheivemnt is having thighs this thicc ohohohoohooo**

_sweetsuga:_ ＜(。_。)＞

**thighmaster1: //moving on**

**thighmaster1: so u know how my pe teacher nad english teacher had ~~a thing~ right??**

_sweetsuga: Yeah, and?_

**thighmaster1: and like,, mr takdea came because ugotta have  afew teachers at this shindig & also becuause he can support coach ukai as the coach obviosuly**

**thighmaster1: except…,**

**thighmaster1: im like 89285802041% sure theyre engaged ???**

_sweetsuga: What, how?_

**thighmaster1: idk man theyre both wearing nechklaces with mathcing gold rings ?**

**thighmaster1: nd when we won caoch ukai picked up takeda and icouldnt see in the confusion that well but again im /fuckign postitve// they kissed**

_sweetsuga: Oh my God, that’s adorable!_

**thighmaster1: idk what 2 feell**

**thighmaster1: knwing that my teachers are boning & that im not**

_sweetsuga: Really? That’s what you’re focusing on?_

**thighmaster1: relaly really**

**thighmaster1: but wouldnt u likee to know what i diddly do with scrrenshots of ur ass tho**

**thighmaster1: ;))))**

_sweetsuga: Daichi, we have less than a month left before we meet._

_sweetsuga: Don’t ruin what little fantasy of pure, chaste love I have left to believe in._

**thighmaster1: ugh finE BBY**

**thighmaster1: YES SO~~**

**thighmaster1: next in line on teh love train is kurro**

**thighmaster1: *churros**

**thighmaster1:  heh lol *kuroo**

_sweetsuga: Why is he even there again?_

**thighmaster1: uni finishes up in novemebr mate**

**thighmaster1: ehs been done for like 2weeks & wanted 2 chill**

_sweetsuga: Ah, yes, I remember now._

**thighmaster1: cool cooL**

**thighmaster1: aoky so the dilemma is,, as bokuto puts it,**

**thighmaster1: “the curiosu case of kuroos sad ass dick“**

_sweetsuga: You know, I was having a nice day, sitting here at a nice little urban-hipster café with Oikawa._

_sweetsuga: The cute barista didn’t fuck up Oikawa’s extra-hot soy hazelnut macchiato, I got a free raspberry muffin for being able to recite his damn order without falter, and I didn’t have to think about Kuroo’s throbbing manhood, sad or otherwise._

**thighmaster1: omg~~**

**thighmaster1: ah yes,, teh roaster does like a  fine roast**

**thighmaster1: waIIT WHAT FUKCING CUTE ASS BARISTA BASTARD???**

**thighmaster1 DO I NEED 2FIGHT??**

_sweetsuga: Chill, Kangaroo Overlord._

_sweetsuga: I mean, the barista was this nice girl with killer winged eyeliner, and she complimented me on my obviously superior fashion sense. And, before you ask, my shirt has this stencil of a snuggly cat wearing a stupid helmet on it, with a caption saying ‘catronaut’._

_sweetsuga: However, I had thought we’d established that my current taste in the delights that men have to offer are strictly invested in those who are tall, handsome, and Japanese-Australian._

**thighmaster1: yEET YEET**

_sweetsuga:_ (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )

**thighmaster1: das me ur talking bout**

**thighmaster1: ;)))))**

_sweetsuga: Your powers of perception never cease to amaze me, Dadchi._

**thighmaster1: i thin k uve upgraded 2 daddychi mate**

Suga raised his hand to cover his mouth, suppressing an ugly snort. Glancing up at the smothered burst of noise, Oikawa’s lip curled in question, his thoughts already coalescing into words.

“No, he didn’t send me a nude, nor will he ever send me a nude,” Suga said, pre-emptively avoiding the gradual inevitability of Oikawa’s sly teasing—it seemed Suga and Daichi’s constant thread of conversation seemed to invoke the worst in Oikawa.

“Iwaizumi sends me nudes.”

Suga sighed, deigning it unnecessary to even look up from his phone yet. “What happened to ‘Iwa-chan’?” Again, Suga persisted in his staunch evasion of approaching the mere concept of discussing the private matters of their boyfriend’s collective dicks in public.

“ _Iwaizumi_ , you see, is late.”

At Oikawa’s petulant tone of forlorn abandonment, Suga smiled, relieved his hand was still firmly shielding his mouth from view.

However, Oikawa was more perceptive than most, and twice as cutthroat, so it was only natural that he would say, “I can tell you’re smiling, Koushi. I’m glad to know you’re here to offer me the support and comfort of a dear friend in these trying times.”

“I haven’t even met my boyfriend and you’re complaining about Iwaizumi spending one night away from you at Kyoutani’s?”

“He didn’t call last night,” Oikawa huffed.

“Did you tell him he was meant to call?”

Oikawa turned his chin away in an apparent—albeit dramatic—response, adamantly refusing to admit he hadn’t told Iwaizumi he should’ve called, and that he merely surmised that Iwaizumi would’ve called.

“Why don’t you just say that to him next time?” Suga suggested, phrasing it delicately as if not to further worsen Oikawa’s mood.

“Because then he would know that I miss him.”

Critical of Oikawa’s seemingly debilitating fear that Iwaizumi might have some emotional leverage in their relationship—because, really, what in the heck—Suga rolled his eyes, returning his attention to his no less ridiculous conversation with Daichi.

_sweetsuga: Daddychi, please._

_sweetsuga: Make me feel your naruto in my ramen._

**thighmaster1: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

**thighmaster1: hmmmmm beiLEIVE IT**

**thighmaster1: PIERCE M E WTH UR KUNAI**

_sweetsuga: Use your Sexy No Jutsu on me._

**thighmaster1: BECOME TEH KAGE OF MYY HEAT**

_sweetsuga:_ (●♡∀♡)) ヾ ☆* _。_

**thighmaster1: omg kuro did it agian wtf**

_sweetsuga: What’d he do, Sasuke-kun?_

**thighmaster1: he played thsi stuid ass overwatch video agian im,, sakura-chan**

**[thighmaster1 sent a link](http://genjibunnymada.tumblr.com/post/156619714356/i-havent-slept-in-so-long).**

**thighmaster1: tag ursef im “i like ncie dicsk”**

_sweetsuga: I’m “I have such strong ass”._

**thighmaster1: genjis kickass singing aint the onyl things thats unstippable**

**Thighmaster1: ((besides my bboner for u suga bby ohohoho))**

**thighmaster1: but kuroo liek omg**

**thighmaster1: boi hes flirting up a storm**

_sweetsuga: Flirting how? Is it his usual brand of casual flirting or purposeful this-better-end-in-rumpled-sheets kind of flirting?_

**thighmaster1: mkay so~~**

**thighmaster1: so kuroos has  stated his boner is reserved solely 4his gamer pal**

**thighmaster1: but idk man**

**thighmaster1: hes been talking 2 tsukki a lto lately**

_sweetsuga: Like, talking through gritted teeth or talking on a quiet breath of adoration?_

**thighmaster1: wait,, tsukkis glaring at him**

**thighmaster1: but he always glares smh**

_sweetsuga: Honey, be specific here._

_sweetsuga: Glaring with the affectionate warmth of a lover, or glaring with the soulless eyes of the long-suffering damned?_

**thighmaster1: the 2n d one for tuskki ???**

**thighmaster1: abd kurro always lookes like hes flritng so idk??**

**thighmaster1: basicllay kuroo is talsking le shit & tuskki is glaring**

_sweetsuga: So, nothing out of the ordinary?_

**thighmaster1: nah not relaly m8**

**thighmaster1: ohhhHH WAIT!!**

**thighmaster1: tuskki & yams are holding hands!!!!!!!**

_sweetsuga:_ （人´∀`*）

_sweetsuga: But what does that mean!!!_

**thighmaster1: ~~that soleves that mystery**

**thighmaster1: so z that means that tsukki & his boy yamaguchi are An IteM**

**thighmaster1: asahi owes me 20 bukcs like i said kuroo wasnt gettign laid this week**

_sweetsuga: You gamble on your friends love lives?_

**thighmaster1: tis more like **sex life,, my dude**

**thighmaster1: wanna know who else i out my money on possibly geeting laid?**

_sweetsuga: Not you._

_sweetsuga: Meaning you’re not even scarce allowed to think of me in any kind of sexual context when we meet, you weeb._

**thighmaster1: im**

**thighmaster1: offended . shcoekd. apparlled.**

**thighmaster1: even hurt to think u wul d care so little bout my dicko**

_sweetsuga: Unfortunate._

_sweetsuga: But please inform me on the romantic woes of your fellow comrades._

**thighmaster1: -.-**

**thighmaster1: u goosisp wore**

_sweetsuga: Goosisp wore._

**thighmaster1: *gossip whore**

**thighmaster1: oi,, can u not**

_sweetsuga: Sure. Anything for you, Daddychi._

_sweetsuga:_ (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*。

**thighmaster1: hmmmmm**

**thighmaster1: i v much liek the shound of that**

**thighmaster1: anyway~~ wanna hear whose youthful hearts has blossomed with the power of tender romance??**

**thighmaster1: //fufck i spelst that all wirhgt**

**thighmaster1: *fuck I spelt tat all right**

_sweetsuga: You almost had it, hon._

**thighmaster1: thansk babe <3**

_sweetsuga: So, who’s following the grand pursuit of passionate love, Maito Gai?_

**thighmaster1: well,, my eternal rival kakashi hatake**

**thighmaster1: wiT KRUOOS GLARING AT ME WHAT DO E S HE WNNT**

**thighmaster1: Hello, this is Kuroo, alternatively known as Daichi’s Hottest Friend, Legs For Days, or generally The One With The Hair.**

**thighmaster1: Daichi is currently indisposed at the moment and shall be returned to you when I deem it appropriate to do so (see: after he discloses important information on the conception and general purpose of discussing “The Curios Case Of Kuroo’s Sad Ass Dick”).**

**thighmaster1: (Additionally, Daichi said to tell you that he was referring to his magnificent celebration of gentle fondness and affection for you).**

Suga glanced across the tabletop to see Oikawa’s elbow perched on the edge, supporting his tilted head as he stared sullenly at his phone.

“No word from Iwaizumi yet?” Suga sipped his herbal blend of tea, the fragrant scent of lemon verbena and rosella flowers lingering in his sinuses.

Oikawa pouted in response—which was a clear no.

“How did you know?” Before Suga could process what he was saying, the words had tumbled from his lips, escaping him in a breathless stream of words, abrupt and without context.

Oikawa raised a manicured eyebrow in question.

Sparing a moment to collect his thoughts, Suga exhaled, and then spoke. “How did you know that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Iwaizumi?”

It was true that within his social circle, Suga had known Kenma the longest, but it was undisputed that he knew Oikawa the best. Thus, Suga was well-versed in being able to read the telling signs of when he was looking at a façade—of Oikawa’s arrogant mask of flippant confidence—and when he was seeing Oikawa for his genuine, human self, stripped to his core.

Oikawa looked downwards, and when his gaze returned to meet Suga’s his expression was equal parts warm and honest. He wasn’t deflecting from the situation with a simpering complaint of Iwaizumi’s unaffected bluntness in their relationship, he was prepared to speak to Suga as he only did privately with Iwaizumi, in complete confidence of mutual trust and support of one another.

“In every aspect of my future, I see him,” Oikawa admitted.

Hooking two of his fingers into the half-moon shape of his teacup handle, Oikawa raised it to his lips for a contemplative sip, as if dwelling over memories and aspirations Suga was sure only Oikawa was privy to sharing with Iwaizumi.

Suga had forgotten that even Oikawa strived for the same simple pleasures of a family and home, despite his passionate pursuit to reach the heights of Olympic-level volleyball. And, for all his bluster, for all his egotistic faults, Oikawa was content with the mediocre concept of loving one person, of dedicating the metaphorical essence of his soul to them.

“But how do you know that… that you’ll never be disappointed with your choices?” Suga hated to ask, to doubt that Oikawa and Iwaizumi weren’t crafted from the same materials, destined to fit into a perfect whole, but his indecisiveness was not unfounded.

Oikawa laughed, the sound a small hiccupping breath of amusement. “Nothing good is achieved without sacrifice,” he mused. His mouth thinned into a serious line that was so terrifyingly unlike his usual self. “Iwaizumi’s parents, the public image I’d have to create once I go pro, friends and teachers and family we’ve had to give up—they’re all problems we’ll always have to face. It’s the same endless cycle of fucking bullshit.”

Suga swallowed, clenching his jaw to ignore the nervous rhythm of his heartbeat echoing in his ears.

“But,” Oikawa continued, “it’s worth it. It’s worth every night I’ve slept beside him, every morning he’s looked after me when I studied for too long or binge-watched a season of _The X-Files_ in one sitting, every second he’s been there even when I thought I didn’t need it, every time he’s sucked my dick—”

“Oikawa!” Suga exclaimed, his face flushing with embarrassment. Laughter spilled from him in an uncontrollable burst of noise, the offhand comment somehow made hilarious in the moment of light-heartedness, forgoing all serious conversation for a span of a few seconds.

In a flash of his own self without the inhibitions he so clearly exhibited, Oikawa smirked, his playfulness roused in a dangerous curve of his mouth. “And every single fucking time he’s made me laugh too.”

“Daichi makes me laugh,” Suga said, “he’s always been able to do that.”

“But there’s more to it than that, Suga.” Oikawa sounded frustrated, not with Suga’s lack of understanding, but for his inability to explain what—or how—Daichi should make him feel. “Does he care enough to fight with you, to tell you you’re wrong, to know when you’re upset, to love you, to hate you, to make you think life would be fucking impossible to endure without them by your side?”

“I don’t… Is it enough to just want that?”

Oikawa maintained a meaningful silence, to allow Suga an empty breath of time in which to think, to formulate an answer.

“Oh, I guess wanting everything with him is the first step to it all, isn’t it?” Suga smiled, breathless with the idea of sharing his everything with Daichi, lightheaded with the possibility of it.

The silver doorbell trilled, drawing Suga’s attention over Oikawa’s shoulder, to the familiar breadth and brawn of the teenager who’d just entered the café. Iwaizumi spotted them in a quick scan of the room’s occupants, moving to approach Oikawa unseen, signaling to Suga to remain silent in a press of his forefinger to his lips.

Suga watched as Iwaizumi wrapped his arms around Oikawa, near pulling him bodily from the chair in a noisy clatter of wood to tile, and Oikawa was shrieking, attempting to dislodge Iwaizumi’s strong grip even when he was smiling, happier than he had been before, and Suga wished—

He wished he was with Daichi now, that his feelings were unequivocal, rooted in the assured belief his path was interwoven with Daichi’s own, forever to be walked together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u may think winning divisional volleyball undefeated is convenient storytelling but my brother's team did that last year he's like a low-budget asahi smh.
> 
> and u may also think that i probably cried over naruto this week because it released two new weekly eps instead of one, but alas, hxh got me good. like it when from brain needles to this dude adopting a puppy i didn't know how to feel. fucking chimera ant arc. (([also on the subject of naruto and sexy no jutsu this video is one of the main reasons i started the damn show](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GUMo9aiWDUQ))).


	20. Those Who Don't Kiss Their Boyfriend On Sight Are Worse Than Scum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daichi was thrown into frantic movement, swivelling on the heel of his boot and—
> 
> He saw Suga.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i need to add a proper forewarning, so here it is: this is The Chapter You Been Waiting For™.

“Asahi, can you and Noya look after my bags for a sec?”

If they hadn’t been in the public space of a foreign airport, Daichi would’ve flipped Asahi off at how his expression sobered, his mouth thinning in pity. Even with his own pint-sized boyfriend in his immediate vicinity and about three seconds away from climbing Asahi like a fucking tree, he still managed to be find something directly disheartening.

“Don’t give me that look, Asahi Christ,” Daichi warned, raising a finger in a threat that _he would fight_ if Asahi cried. He turned to Nishinoya, who was surprisingly the more trustworthy of the two in this instance. “Look after him for me, okay?”

“Suga’s here, Daichi! I know you’ll be able to find him soon.”

Daichi suddenly felt very old and very despondent in the presence of something so small and spirited. However, he waved Noya’s encouragement and Asahi’s concerns away in one flippant gesture, saying, “I’m just going to buy something to eat, chill.”

If this was some bullshit romantic comedy, Daichi would’ve put money on a narrator saying that he was, in fact, not just going to buy something to eat, and rather to mull over his disappointment that Suga hadn’t been there to greet him at the terminal. All things considered, he did have to watch Asahi’s dramatic ass reunion with his long-distance partner less than fifteen minutes before, and his gut had been twisting with some sullen pettiness since then—because Suga wasn’t there, he’d said he would be and he wasn’t.

“Hey.”

Daichi halted in his footsteps, twisting to meet the hooded gaze of a teenager less than two strides behind him. He looked about Daichi’s age, or maybe a little younger—it was hard to distinguish much in the oversized jumper he wore. The boy raised his chin, revealing a pair of glasses perched on his nose, a swath of brunet hair hidden under the rim of a black-and-white baseball cap that read Hollywood in large block letters.

“Um, hiya, mate.”

“You’re from Australia, right?”

Due to his inexperience travelling outside of his home state, Daichi at least expected a few people to identify his—what he thought was non-existent—accent. “Yeah,” he affirmed, fingers hooking into the belt loops of his jeans. “I’m Australian.”

“So, for what reason are you visiting America? Business or pleasure?”

Daichi’s brow furrowed at the teenager’s sharp tone, but his mum had always told him to be polite, and he wasn’t going to stop listening to her advice now. “I’m—”

“Is this just a little fun for you, or are you serious about it?”

Daichi blinked. “What?”

“Is Suga a cute little game for you, or is it something long-term?”

“Um—”

“Are you going to treat him any differently than you did before now that you’ve met him?”

“Mate, I’m—“

“Can I trust you to look after him?”

“Crappykawa!” Another voice boomed, causing a few stray passing people to spare him a nervous glance. Both Daichi and the fucking weirdo currently yelling at him in an airport for no apparent reason turned to look at him too.

If not for the awkward, slightly intimidating situation, Daichi would’ve spared a thought to how well built the newcomer was. He was obviously nowhere near as pretty as Suga, but there was a certain level of admiration Daichi felt he needed to dedicate to the muscled outline of the teenager, to the strong shape of his jaw.

Breaking Daichi’s reverie, the other boy strode towards them, a rough grasp tightening around the brunet’s collar, the jostle causing his hat to topple to the ground. “I’m sorry my boyfriend’s such a fucking idiot,” he said, his expression remaining impassive even when he pulled the other boy’s head into the crook of his arm, running his large, tan knuckles over the brunet’s head. “He neglected to tell me we were catching the metro up here so he could stalk and interrogate you without Suga’s knowledge like some weird ass lunatic.”

“That’s okay, I guess.” Daichi’s answer was slow, uncomprehending.

The boy nodded, ignoring his boyfriend’s protests— _Iwa-chan, my hair, my hair! “_ And I’d make him apologise now, but instead I’m going to say to look behind you right now,” he said, pointing, “because Suga’s been staring at you for the past thirty seconds.”

His heartbeat stuttering, his mind working to process the knowledge that Suga would be there if he turned around, if he just fucking moved, and then—

Daichi was thrown into frantic movement, swivelling on the heel of his boot and—

He saw Suga.

There he was, imprinting an image into Daichi’s mind that was not pixelated or blurred, but instead a shape that was real and clear and nonetheless stunning. Daichi tried to comprehend the sheer impossibility of this moment, of how many tribulations and arguments and soft whispers of night-time loneliness he’d endured to get here, within a short distance of space—not land, not tired wistfulness—that separated him from Suga.

“Daichi,” Suga said.

If Daichi was closer he could’ve felt Suga’s breath brush along his skin, or have felt the sound travel through his bones, settling in his marrow as a memory. He wished he was closer to Suga then, he wanted with a burning ferocity that was unrivalled in all that he had felt before. It was a culmination of everything at once, crashing together, forming Daichi’s single-minded need to _move_ , to touch and to feel.

“Oh, Daichi,” Suga said again, his voice a shaking tremor.

The disconnection of shock faded in an instant, and then Daichi’s body finally synced with his mind, thrusting him into a jolt of movement, like a delayed start. He ran, without thought to those around him, knowing he could be in contact with Suga in three, two, one—

They collided.

They crashed together, two parts always kept separate finally fusing into one whole.

“Daichi, oh my god—” Suga was saying, the words muffled by the skin of his palm, pressed to his lips. “Daichi, Daichi,” he said again, shakier, weaker, as if he couldn’t believe it was real.

And Daichi could scarce believe it too. Because to Suga, he was close to him, a tangible existence that could move and feel, that was warm beneath Daichi’s fingertips. He was no longer a fantasy, no longer an electronic notification of a messaging system, but a promise of more, of a future that was within their physical grasp.

Knowing it’d be too soon to forgo touch, Daichi held onto Suga until he felt like he wouldn’t disappear if he dared to let go, until he was sure that he’d be left with more than a shimmer of Suga’s makeup on his cheek if he dared to relent in his grasp.

He did pull away, eventually. “Why weren’t you with Noya?” Daichi asked, coughing to mask the rasp of his emotion-raw voice. “I was all ready for our big romantic meeting and you weren’t there like what the fuck.” He felt tears well at the corner of his eyes, blurring his vision. Wiping his cheeks in furious swipes of his hand, Daichi smiled through a wet intake of air, his chest threatening to burst.

“I saw Iwaizumi, who told me Oikawa was attempting to follow you, and we tried to find before, you know—” Suga broke off, laughter spilling unbidden from his lips. He persisted in holding Daichi’s flannel sleeves, unwilling to let go of the blue-black tartan pattern. “But when I saw you, I just—”

“Stopped thinking? Stopped breathing?”

Suga hadn’t relented in staring at Daichi, and continued to do so—because Daichi was here, close to him.

“Baby?” Daichi asked, his lips forming the faint shape of a smirk.

“I really wanted to be there when you got off the plane,” Suga admitted. “I wanted it to be like in the movies, where I run up to you, and we do something stupid and young like kiss in front of everyone.”

“Who says we can’t do that now?”

“You want to do something stupid?”

Daichi curled his fingers around the back of Suga’s neck, the action intimate despite the humdrum of public space, people shifting around them like a stream flowing over water-smooth rocks. “Yeah, I want to do something really stupid.”

Suga’s mind emptied, his breath catching in his throat as Daichi’s lips were a hair’s breadth from meeting his—

“We should really leave before rush hour traffic,” Oikawa interrupted.

Pulling back, Daichi felt the heat of Suga retreat, felt the loss of it. He could wait for the right moment—even if he had to fight Oikawa for it. However, Suga seemed more disheartened in lieu of their cosmic misfortune, glancing downwards in embarrassment for a moment, but then Daichi was pressing a fleeting kiss to his cheek. He didn’t look back as he threaded his fingers with Suga’s, tugging him along, but he was sure Suga would’ve been smiling—or blushing, at least.

With one hand cuffing the back of Oikawa’s neck in obvious displeasure, Iwaizumi held his free hand out to Daichi, both of them offering their names before slapping each other on the shoulder in a manly action of newly forged companionship. And then Daichi and Suga were following Oikawa and Iwaizumi to the baggage claim, too nervous to do more than share quick, breathless smiles, squeezing their conjoined hands every few strides.

After making perfunctory greetings between Suga’s friends and Asahi, Daichi leaned in to speak in low tones to Suga, watching him grow flustered at his sudden closeness. Their friend’s conversation faded into obsolete background noise as the words poured from Daichi’s lips, as if he’d been waiting for the chance to speak. He asked Suga if they could go to an Outback Steakhouse so he could pass judgement, if he was wearing his Bigfoot socks or had used the _Fullmetal Alchemist_ -themed makeup palette Daichi had bought for Suga’s birthday. It was nonsensical, wonderful bullshit.

“Daichi, you sure you don’t want a jacket or something for outside?” Asahi asked when they’d said what they needed to say, names assigned to faces to the first impression of differing personalities.

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” Suga raised his eyebrow at Daichi’s nonchalant response, prompting him to reply with an unsuspecting, “What?”

“Look at what I’m wearing,” Suga’s hand drifted from his chest to Daichi’s as he spoke, “and then look at what you’re wearing.”

In Daichi’s opinion, it wasn’t too much of a drastic difference. And considering what deplorable state he’d departing his motel room in, a long-sleeved flannel shirt, blue jeans, and lace-up desert boots was a commendable effort. As usual, it had been largely Kuroo’s fault that Daichi had overslept, waking up mildly hungover and rushing to throw a few pieces of clothing together before shouting his goodbyes to Akaashi and Bokuto too.

Although Suga did look a whole lot nicer, the dark colour of his black pea coat, jeans and ankle boots offset by the snowy whiteness of his sweater and eggshell-blue scarf, stylish and well put-together in comparison to Daichi’s farmer-chic.

Daichi frowned. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

The automatic door slid open in a hiss of air, and once he and Suga had stepped outside, Suga slipped his arm through Daichi’s and said, “Honey, you’ve got a big storm coming.”

“What bloody storm— _holy_ _fuck_.”

The first thing Daichi felt was a buffet of strong, ice-sharp air, cutting through his thin, poorly-planned outfit in a swift rush of winter wind. Whatever dumb reservations he held about how his outfit served to enhance his casual air of effortless handsomeness, he was cold. Like, really fucking cold.

“What temperature is it?” Asahi asked from somewhere behind Daichi, somehow speaking loud enough to be heard over the bustle of conversation and destructive weather.

“About forty,” Suga replied, his hold tightening on Daichi’s arm.

“You said it was sixty degrees or something, baby.” Daichi clasped Suga’s hand and tugging him closer to conserve his dwindling body warmth. If not for his rapid loss of feeling in his fingers and nose, he would find a sort of satisfaction in being close enough to catch the tropical scent of guava clinging to Suga’s hair, but he was too preoccupied with surviving the arduous walk to the car park to care.

“It’s hardly even chilly,” Oikawa remarked, passing Daichi and Suga to cross the road ahead of them.

Daichi’s eyes narrowed. “If it’s not so fucking cold then take your hands outta Iwaizumi’s pockets.”

Whirling his head around, Oikawa scoffed, scandalised to even entertain the idea of forgoing contact with his boyfriend, although Iwaizumi seemed considerate of the concept of personal space.

At his side, Suga laughed, the twinkling sound so unlike the cacophonous din of speech and engine roar that it startled Daichi into glancing sidewards, his attention centring on the boy at his arm. After his amusement subsided, Suga turned, feeling the weight of Daichi’s stare on him.

“What?” He asked.

“You’re so cute,” Daichi blurted out.

However, Suga compensated for Daichi’s lack of natural inclination to feel embarrassed. “What in God’s green earth are you, Daichi?” He murmured into the bulk of Daichi’s shoulder, the words smothered against the fabric.

“I’m your boyfriend, dumbass.”

Suga chuckled, tucking himself closer to Daichi, turning his head to the side to rest it against the point of Daichi’s shoulder so they could walk together easily, like a couple from an old-timey movie.

“How was the ride over?” Daichi spoke a few minutes later, following in the path of Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s footsteps ahead of him—how they knew where Suga had parked when they took the train, Daichi didn’t want to ask.

“Nothing too bad, I was just a little nervous.”

“What do you think would happen?” Daichi snorted.

“When it includes you, I’m not prepared for less than half what happens.”

“Wait till you see my dick then.”

Daichi failed to catch Oikawa’s curious glance over his shoulder at the solid thump of Suga’s fist to his chest, and he was also oblivious to when Oikawa leaned close to Iwaizumi, his mouth adopting a kind shape as he spoke in low tones.

But Daichi didn’t miss Iwaizumi’s call of, “Hey, Sawamura?”

“Hajime—” Oikawa hissed.

“Shittykawa doesn’t think you’re half bad.”

His brow furrowing, Daichi watched Oikawa push Iwaizumi aside in a huff of irritation. Sharing a look of confusion with Suga, Daichi shrugged, the both of them turning their gazes forward to continue spectating Oikawa’s dismal attempts to ignore Iwaizumi. Maintaining his petulant scowl, Iwaizumi sidled up close behind Oikawa, threading his arms around his waist and then—

Oikawa’s head turned in clear disdain, prepared to rebuff Iwaizumi’s advances to his face, but Iwaizumi was already leaning forward, kissing Oikawa silent.

“I think Iwaizumi’s onto something there,” Daichi commented slyly, causing Suga to dig a reprimanding elbow into his side.

However, as Daichi and Suga passed the couple, without breaking contact with Iwaizumi, Oikawa raised his middle finger to them. Laughter spilled across the concrete, loud and carefree, and the sound following their group—even after Iwaizumi and Oikawa joined them, seemingly unperturbed by the public display affection—for the entire path to Suga’s car.

Daichi stopped, gazing at the silver SUV in suspicion. “How are we all gonna fit in there?” He asked, contemplating just how all six of them could possibly fit into a five-seater.

“I have to drive,” Suga paused before continuing, “but someone’s gotta squeeze in somewhere now we have to account for two extra people now, so I guess Noya can sit in Asahi’s lap—”

“I can sit in Iwaizumi’s lap,” was Oikawa’s benevolent offer. The whole gathering of people turned to look at him in incredulous confusion, the suggestion so ridiculous that even Iwaizumi glanced at him, his mouth twisting into a disapproving scowl.

“Um,” Suga said, “Tooru, I think it’d be easier if—”

Reminiscent of Oikawa’s unsettling on-court persona, he spoke in a tone that broached no argument, no alternatives. “I’m sitting in Iwaizumi’s lap.” He looked at Iwaizumi, unfazed under his boyfriend’s scrutiny as he stated, “But I’m still mad at you.”

Iwaizumi’s regarded him coolly, but his stance seemed more complaint than argumentative.

A beat of silence. “Oh, fine then.” Suga sighed, and the tense atmosphere dissipated in an instant, Oikawa grinning with impish delight as he tugged Iwaizumi to the other side of the car.

“Is he always like that?” Daichi asked Noya as he and Asahi loaded their bags into the trunk.

“Yeah, he’s fucking insane.” Nishinoya grinned, undeterred by the fact he would be promptly enduring over a one hour drive with Oikawa, someone he’d confirmed to be _fucking insane_.

Well, Daichi had spent the majority of the bus ride home from Melbourne with his phone confiscated and in the dastardly hands of Kuroo, so he’d surmised that he’d had worse. Much worse indeed.

Sparing a moment to rifle through his suitcase to pull a jumper free, Daichi arranged all his and Asahi’s luggage into zipped it shut and slammed the bonnet closed. However, he had settled into the front passenger seat just as Noya and Asahi had climbed into the backseat, and there was a breath of peacefulness after all doors closed to seal them inside before sheer bedlam erupted.

Oikawa cried out at the sudden crush of bodies, and Iwaizumi’s gravel-rough voice cut through the murmur of complaints, telling Oikawa to reap what he had sown even when he was pulling his boyfriend closer to him, seemingly content with their cramped position.

“Move your feet, Oikawa!” Noya shouted, fitting into the small space between Asahi, and the human growth that was Iwaizumi and Oikawa. He shoved Oikawa’s feet further towards the door, causing the toe of Oikawa’s boots into the back of Daichi’s chair, striking him through the seat.

Daichi leaned forward, rubbing the twinge of pain in his back before catching Suga’s concerned expression beside him. He offered a placating smile in reassurance that his spine was still intact, making a waving gesture to dismiss Suga’s worries.

“Sit further back in your seat,” Oikawa argued in stubborn indignance.

“If you want more room then get out of Iwaizumi’s lap and let me sit in Asahi’s then!”

“Don’t insult me.”

“Guys,” Daichi said, swivelling around to command the attention of the entire backseat in a single motion, his finger raised in warning. “Stop fucking bickering or your mum and I are going to pull this car over right now. Also, Nishinoya? Oikawa?”

“Yes?” They chorused.

“Leave room for Jesus, okay?”

Due to Oikawa and Noya’s ceaseless squabbling for more legroom, Asahi’s large frame had somehow been pushed into an awkward angle pressed to the door, silently resigned to his bleak fate of suffocation. After a beat of stunned silence, and then there was a sudden flurry of movement—Iwaizumi slapping Oikawa on the upside of his head for inconveniencing Asahi, and Noya’s rearrangement of his limbs as he moved to help Asahi into a more comfortable position.

Turning around to face the road again, Daichi spared a quick glance at Suga, noticing the amused curve of his mouth. Focusing on the line of traffic stretching before them, Suga didn’t speak, didn’t look at Daichi, but his smile widened as Daichi’s fingers wound around his knee, squeezing once in shared companionship.

Although Asahi hadn’t recovered from his brush with death until Suga had navigated them out of the airport carpark, and Oikawa had achieved some acrobatic feat that allowed him to remain in Iwaizumi’s lap without directly endangering those around him, Daichi’s hand on Suga’s thigh maintained a link of contact between them nearly the entire ride home.

They dropped Nishinoya and Asahi off at the former’s house, and then Oikawa and Iwaizumi departed after only a mildly terrifying interlude in which Daichi thought Oikawa would refuse to leave the car—or it was a strong possibility that maybe he didn’t want to part from Iwaizumi’s lap too. And then, with a blissful sigh of relief, they were pulling up at Suga’s two-storey house, and walking inside, dropping Daichi’s bags in the expansive space of the front hallway.

The tension bled from Daichi’s shoulders, his muscles loosening in one exhaustive exhale.

“Daichi, do you want to—”

In an effort to silence Suga, Daichi gripped handfuls of his coat, jerking Suga towards him in one decisive movement. There was a sudden excess of heat and weight, causing Daichi’s throat to clench at the same time his interest piqued. “Do you think Oikawa would interrupt us if I kissed you now?” Daichi asked, grinning.

Suga made a show of tilting his head in consideration, winding his arms around Daichi’s neck, their bodies slotting together. “I don’t know,” he mused, “it’s possible, but I’d like to believe we could manage at least one kiss without disruption.”

“Just one, hey?” Daichi’s chin dipped downwards, his nose brushing Suga’s.

“I think it’s doable.” Suga was reaching up on the toes of his socks, so close he could smell the musk of Daichi’s aftershave, could almost taste it as he drew near to him and—

The door swung open, a string of Japanese cut short as Suga’s parents were shocked into silence at the sight of their son two seconds away from kissing someone who—to them—was an unidentified stranger.

Swearing under his breath, Daichi separated from Suga, wiping his palms on his jeans before bowing. He knew that unlike his dad, both Suga’s parents would appreciate a more formal, traditional Japanese introduction. “Um, hello, sir, ma’am,” he said, attempting to act polite in retrospect to the general values of both Australian and Japanese cultures. “I’m Sawamura Daichi and—And it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

There was a beat of silence where Daichi was sure _he fucked up,_ but then Suga was taking Daichi’s hand into his own. “Mom, Dad,” like Daichi, Suga was speaking in English, although his tonewas light-hearted and breathy, as if he’d just recovered from laughing, “I’d like for you to meet my boyfriend, Daichi.”

Suga’s parents paused for another blinding moment of fear, and then they were smiling too, hesitant but well-meaning as they proceeded to bow to Daichi, asking him about his family, his job, his aspirations. The pleasant—albeit initially awkward—stream of conversation continued for the remainder of the night, never once faltering as Daichi helped Suga’s mother make dinner and set the table, all four of them sitting down to eat.

It wasn’t near as casual or welcoming as Daichi’s home, on the couch with his own parents and their dogs, but it was pleasant. Scratch that, it was fucking monumental, because when Daichi was struck by the odd urge to reach out and touch Suga, he was there to ground him to the unfathomable reality of the situation, to the sheer impossibility of them sharing a meal together.

Afterwards, Suga’s parents shooed Daichi away before he could offer to wash the dishes, bidding them goodnight, content with the sleeping arrangement—all things considered.

“Your parents are real nice,” Daichi said as Suga led him up the staircase. Glancing over his shoulder, Suga smiled, which Daichi mirrored in the own fond curve of his mouth. “I mean,” he continued, “even though I can’t speak Japanese too well since my mum only speaks English and shit, but they didn’t seem to mind. And they’re gonna let me sleep in your room too, which is, y’know, the coolest.”

“What was that?”

“The coolest of cool.”

“Oh, really?”

In lieu of answering, Daichi lunged forward, the inertia throwing him forward until he was sliding over the wooden floorboards in his socks in front of Suga, his arms looping around Suga’s thighs.

“What are you—Daichi!”

Daichi heaved his body upwards, his grip fastening just under Suga’s ass, whooping in triumph as Suga’s legs weaved around Daichi’s waist in an instinctive movement to find suitable purchase. Despite Suga’s weak protests to let him go, _to put him the heck down,_ but he was laughing, fingers clutching the flannel stretched taut across Daichi’s broad shoulders.

“Where’s your room again?”

Suga twisted, pointing to a half-open door further down the hallway, his other arm curling around Daichi’s neck for better stability. With a dependable strength that Suga truly underestimated, Daichi carried Suga to his room with the same careful diligence one did a spoon with an egg.

“You sleep with the door closed or open?” Daichi asked, stopping at the threshold of the bedroom. Somehow managing to support Suga’s weight with one arm, Daichi reached outwards to slap his hand against the light switch, flooding the room with an ambient glow as he adjusted his grip.

“I have it just a little bit open, why?”

“Because you’re sleeping with it fucking closed tonight, baby.”

With no preamble, no warning, Daichi kicked the door shut, covering the space between it and Suga’s bed in three quick strides. However, instead of throwing Suga to his bed like he thought Daichi would, he lowered him down, dropping Suga into the soft cushion of his comforter.

Suga wasn’t prepared for the sudden realisation that he and Daichi were alone in his room, nor the fact that he had been expecting this with a restless anticipation. However, his attention was fixated on the fact that Daichi was so near to him, legs bracketing Suga’s, arms braced beside Suga’s head—it was surreal, another breathtaking moment in which this was real.

And, oh how Suga wanted this, had craved this closeness in the safe darkness of his night-cast room, imagining what Daichi’s hot, bare skin would feel like pressed to his, and what sounds he’d make. He felt heat simmer low in his abdomen, felt his throat tighten and his fingertips quiver against the warm, stubble-rough shape of Daichi’s cheek.

“Daichi?” His voice was a tremor, his heartbeat slowing to a calming lull when Daichi leaned into his touch, smiling as he kissed the tentative shake from Suga’s fingertips.

“Yeah?”

“Are you—” Suga stopped, because Daichi was looking at him with the same affectionate warmth as Oikawa did Iwaizumi, and vice versa—looking at him as if this moment filled the simple contentment of sharing the same space with someone he loved.

“Daichi?” Suga asked, because he had to start over now.

“Yeah?”

“Can you kiss me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heh lol i feel like writing another iwaoi companion piece so u guys are probs gonna have to wait an extra two weeks or something for the resolution of this cliffhanger. pls don't hurt me i'm just tired and this took a lot out of me.
> 
> u can find and flay me on [tumblr](http://diggitydamnsebastianstan.tumblr.com/).
> 
> [((and the fullmetal alchemist makeup palette is real too))](https://shirocosmetics.com/product/eyes/the-fullmetal-collection/).


	21. Sasuke Uchiha Is The Root Evil of All Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In fact, Suga had surmised that he didn’t care about the setting or mood, he just really fucking wanted to plant one on his hot Australian boyfriend, preferably yesterday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternatively titled: the only dick suga's getting is blocked.

“And then?”

“Daichi didn’t kiss me.”

Oikawa scoffed, sounding more scandalised than Suga felt.

“Well,” Suga said, adjusting his grasp around his mobile as he stretched out across the smooth expanse of his comforter. “Walt did attack his feet at the exact moment Daichi was going to reply, so that interrupted us. And Daichi hadn’t met him before so he spent about fifteen minutes holding him and cooing like he’d never seen a fluffy cat before, so you would only think there was no real reason to continue the conversation, right?”

“Didn’t you want him to kiss you?”

Suga felt his cheeks flush with heat. “Oh, yeah. I really did.”

“Then stop blaming losing your potential first kiss with your boyfriend on your cat.”

Before Suga could argue that it really was, in fact, all Walt’s fault, the receiving audio filled with the sound of a rustling sheets, and a sleepy, affectionate mumble of Oikawa name.

“Are you really calling me from bed?” A considerate pause. “Wait, why does Iwaizumi sound tired? And why is he being cute instead of insulting you? It’s not even nine—” A defeated sigh. “You have got to be kidding me, Tooru.”

“What?” Oikawa asked, feigning innocence.

“I can’t even kiss my boyfriend and you literally just had sex with yours.”

“It’s not my fault Hajime can’t keep his hands off me when I’m ten times prettier than the majority of the American population.”

“Ten times zero is zero, Asskawa,” Iwaizumi said, his voice as loud and clear as Oikawa’s. Unable to do more than listen, Suga waited as speech faded into muffled movement, and the wet, unmistakeable sound of kissing, followed with a low murmur of private conversation.

Suga would’ve felt embarrassed at being privy to his best friend’s pillow talk, if not for the sudden, overwhelming sense of jealousy, however fleeting. It was wrong to feel anything other than happiness for them. Because he knew that the threat of living in such a religiously-minded community loomed over them, resulting in Oikawa’s constant struggles with accepting the potential repercussions of his sexuality on his future career and how badly Iwaizumi’s relationship with his family had suffered after he came out.

Oikawa had loved Iwaizumi before he even knew what it meant, and Iwaizumi had done what he always had—following Oikawa three paces behind, slow but sure to love him in return. It didn’t matter when or how their relationship had progressed, Suga realised, because what he felt about Daichi was no less important, no less spellbindingly brilliant.

“You guys have to stop setting such high standards.” Suga’s smile was fond now, absent of his previous ill-favour.

“Sorry, Koushi. What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Suga sighed, rolling onto his back. “You should probably go back to cuddling or whatever you do after sex. Engage in volleyball-relevant dirty talk. I’ll talk to Daichi when he gets out of the shower.”

Iwaizumi murmured his farewell, and Suga was glad to have provided a means to end this conversation because the post-coital softness of Iwaizumi’s voice was something he felt like should come with an adequate warning.

However, as Suga moved his phone from his cheek, he heard the tentative call of, “Hey, Koushi?”

“Yeah?”

“Just,” Oikawa started, “remember that it’s really not that bad to wait for a special moment.”

Suga opened his mouth to say more, to ask more, but he knew Oikawa was speaking in regards to his own personal history with Iwaizumi, and their history together was vastly different to his and Daichi’s. He should have never felt compelled to think his relationship with Daichi was no less important or meaningful than Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s because it was Suga’s own.

Suga’s future with Daichi had yet to be realised, it was a path that he had taken just a few trepidation-laced steps onto, and he had to revel in the fact that it was new and exciting and wonderful, rather than mulling over it’s slow start.

“Thanks,” Suga said, his breath an appreciative sigh.

Afterwards, when Suga had attached his mobile to the charger and nestled into the warm cocoon of his comforter, Daichi emerged from the adjoining en suite bathroom. Normally, Suga would’ve concluded that post-shower attire was a pair of pyjamas or the like, but Daichi was anything but normal.

“Did you really have to just wear a towel?” Suga asked, forcing himself not to stare, because staring was rude, no matter how attractive the person was. Even if the person was his boyfriend, and he was one single piece of thin fabric separating him from being naked in Suga’s immediate presence, and—

“See something you like?” Daichi was smirking, delighting in the fact Suga’s cheeks were flushed, stunned into a reverie.

In lieu of answering, Suga threw a pillow in Daichi’s general direction, turning onto his side in an exaggerated huff of irritation. He heard the faint sound of Daichi’s laughter, and the metallic zip slide of his suitcase open, before Suga was sure the muffled sound of movement was Daichi changing.

“Babe, don’t be mad—Aw, fuck, Walt!” Daichi cursed, catapulting onto Suga’s bed with such an incredible force the frame shook, slamming against the wall.

“Do you want my parents to think we’re having sex?” Suga hissed, rolling onto his opposite side to see Daichi crouched, his stance tense. He raised a speculative eyebrow. “He’s just a cat, Daichi, I hardly think Walt is capable of serious injury.”

“Mate, I only got attacked because I took the time to put on socks for you.”

Blinking, Suga glanced down to affirm that, yes, Daichi’s sleeping attire was restricted to a form-fitting pair of grey briefs and thick woollen socks.

“Won’t you be cold?” Suga queried, glad that he didn’t stutter—because if he looked a little too long and a little too hard he wouldn’t need his imagination to imagine how Daichi would look naked.

Daichi’s shoulders dropped, his suspicion of imminent attack diminishing with each passing second, and then he was moving to push the bedsheets backwards, sliding underneath. “And, no, I won’t be cold,” Daichi argued, pausing for dramatic effect, “because I’m going to spoon you _so hard_.”

Suga laughed, and continued to laugh when Daichi barrelled into him, arms wrapping around Suga, his entire weight pressing him into the mattress. There was a sudden influx of heat and skin, but Daichi was nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder, realigning the length of his body to rest to the side so he wasn’t smothering Suga and—it was a comfortable level of contact, close but unconfining.

To an unknown third party, who thought Daichi and Suga had known each other for barely a day, their quickness to touch in such unguarded circumstances might’ve seemed inappropriate. But Suga had known Daichi for a year and a half, and he understood that Daichi’s character was to be kind and humble, and never to push or expect more than Suga would give.

Instead of telling Daichi that he was grateful to had met him, Suga decided to be flippant when he could’ve been earnest, and said, “This isn’t spooning.” His hands rested on the broad expanse of Daichi’s back, unable to curb the pleased hum of contentment which followed.

“Don’t care, it’s nice anyway.”

“Yeah,” Suga agreed as he relaxed in Daichi’s embrace, his consciousness drifting. “It is nice.”

Suga had surmised that there had never been a more luxurious feeling than curling tight beneath a swaddle of sleep-worn blankets at night, but, as he nestled closer into the naked warmth of Daichi’s chest, he thought that maybe this was a better alternative.

The first morning Suga and Daichi spent together was a lazy affair, and Suga almost felt compelled to make a full spread of breakfast, but Daichi seemed appeased with a measly piece of toast and a glass of orange juice. And Suga could survive at least three-quarters of the day on a large cup of coffee and sheer willpower alone, so breakfast was miserable, but waking up together was not.

“So, you want to go to Kenma’s for the day?” Suga asked, unsure of how to proceed now he was actually sharing the same physical space as Daichi.

“Fuck yeah!” Daichi exclaimed, sounding much too spirited for someone leaning against the kitchen benchtop in his own sleep-ruffled, heavy-lidded glory. And Suga concluded that he was also much too casual to be dressed in loose drawstring sweatpants and nothing else.

Although it seemed fortunate was secured in Suga’s favour, because Daichi did pull a worn T-shirt over his head when he and Suga prepared to complete the small trek between Suga’s house and Kenma’s. It was a confidence issue, Suga realised, because Daichi never seemed to be directly affected by the same insecurities as Suga did. However, Daichi’s influence on him had been nothing but positive, and his lack of judgement did alleviate Suga’s own self-consciousness—it was a good thing to have known Daichi, it had always been.

It was more apparent at Kenma’s that Daichi was unlike anyone Suga had met before, because his enthusiasm never faltered, not once. Suga knew Kenma’s common reaction to unplanned introductions was to duck his head and barely cast a glance in their general direction, but he did attempt to at least reply to Daichi whenever he asked about the logistics of the game he was playing, _For Honor_ or whatever.

Following his usual routine of days spent in Kenma’s company, Suga sat opposite end of the couch to Kenma, pulling his Mac book into his lap as Kenma continued to dedicate his sole focus to his game. Daichi seemed content to rest his head on Suga’s shoulder too, feet crossed on the coffee table, gaze alternating between watching Kenma play and Suga periodically check all his social media accounts and blogs.

The morning bled into noon, and Suga grew bored of maintaining his useless but entertaining online social life, shifting to compensate for Daichi’s weight pressed against him. And, for the third time in five minutes, Suga noticed how Kenma reached for his empty water bottle, consequently finding it empty and returning his attention to the game. He was distracted, but Kenma could never understand the limits of a biological human need to sleep, eat and rest between too-long gaming sessions.

“Kenma, I’m sure Daichi can play for you if want to take a quick break,” Suga suggested with a casual lightness.

His gaze flickered to Suga’s for a moment, the action an unspoken question in itself—although his reluctance to agree was a more prevalent factor, since it was probable that his online reputation might suffer in his absence. Kenma’s thumb drifted over his controller, pressing a button which Suga didn’t know the purpose of, but he seemed resolved to at least answer.

“I’m in a party,” Kenma said, quiet as he continued to stare ahead at his open game menu.

Suga frowned. “Which means?”

“He’s playing with someone online,” Daichi interjected, vaulting over the couch to land beside down Suga, “like, if I play his mate might speak to me since they're already in an interactive group. So, Kenma has already joined into a party with his gaming pal and they're talking to each other and shit, but only Kenma can hear and reply to them with the headset.”

Kenma was silent for a moment, dubious of Daichi’s presence but eager for a short moment of respite, and then—

He clicked the same button he had before, a small red light appearing—he had muted his microphone before, Suga realised. “I'm gonna take a break and someone’s going to play with you for a little bit, he's a friend of a friend,” Kenma said without tact. Suga, accustomed to Kenma’s expressiveness fluctuating between blunt and mildly inconvenienced, was not accustomed to watching Kenma smile—with teeth, actual teeth—at his friend’s response.

In a series of quick, almost conditioned commands, Kenma had prepared a multiplayer match, a few seconds from progressing to an online battlefield before holding his controller out to Daichi. “Don’t change classes, don’t rely on forcing people out of bounds, and don’t talk to my friend unless strictly necessary.”

Daichi nodded, his grin sincere despite Kenma’s oft misunderstood seriousness. Hiding a smile behind a polite fan of his fingers, Suga was delighted to see how Daichi’s genuine friendliness seemed to shock Kenma too, only if for an instant.

However, when Kenma disappeared from view, Suga began to reconsider how highly he praised Daichi’s Australian-bred lack of pretence. He fitted Kenma’s slim headset over his head in a span of a few seconds, fingers finding the unlit button which Suga realised would unmute him—and surely doing the last thing Kenma wanted him to do.

“Daichi, no—”

“Oi, mate," Daichi said, speaking to Kenma's mysterious friend, "please don’t tell me you’re playing as a Viking and I got stuck with a Samurai weeb.”

“What in the heck do you think you’re doing? Stop.” Suga hissed, tugging on the elbow of Daichi’s shirt to no avail.

Suga heard the low murmur of answering conversation bleed through Kenma's padded headphones, and he watched Daichi’s smirk fade and his gaze widen as he leaned forward, abruptly solemn. His focus shifted from the game entirely, his distraction allowing Kenma's character to be killed, the TV screen to flood with a disorientating flash of colour and noise.

“Daichi, what’s wrong?” Suga asked, worried.

It was a slow process, watching as Daichi opened his mouth to speak, one word—a name—escaping in a disbelieving breath of, “Kuroo?”

"What?"

"Kenma's playing with Kuroo," he explained, "the dude Kenma has been gaming with for however long is Kuroo, and the guy Kuroo has been lowkey crushing on for even longer is Kenma." Quieting, Daichi spared a moment to think about how such a thing could be possible. "

Before Suga could even begin to comprehend that, before Daichi had the available time to form another response, Kenma had swiped his controller from the latter’s hand with a disapproving mumble, oblivious to Suga and Daichi’s alarming discovery.

“Suga,” Daichi said, “give me your Mac.”

“Oh—Okay.” He didn’t so much as even think to agree before Daichi had pulled the laptop into his lap, opening it with a violent jerk of movement. He was quick to run his finger over the touch pad, cursor finding the Skype app in whip-fast, efficient succession.

“What are you doing?” Suga whispered.

“Calling him.”

_Him_ —Kuroo.

“Wait!” Reaching for Daichi’s hand, Suga halted his actions with one decisive warning, “You can’t do that, Kenma would freak out.”

“But Kuroo trusts Kenma enough to tell me that he likes this guy he hasn't even met, and it turns out it's one of your friends,” Daichi argued. “And I’m not going to force Kenma to talk to him, I just—” He paused, conflicted. “I’m not going to straight up lie to Kuroo and ignore the fact that the dude he’s been steadily pining over for, like, _months_ , is literally sitting next to me on the couch.”

Suga didn’t know Kuroo, but he understood that this would be too sudden for Kenma, without at least a week’s advance in preparation he’d scarce be able to talk to Kuroo, _just_ Kuroo. And—

“You pressed call already?”

The upbeat call tone filtered through the room, loud against the dim background of warfighting.

“Fuck,” Daichi swore, “why am I always pressing this shit prematurely?”

Pushing his boyfriend’s hand aside, Suga moved to end the outgoing video—again with the video—but then Kenma was sighing, glancing over at the pair of them at in interlude between celebrating victory and finding a new suitable match. There was a moment where Suga forgot how to breathe, anticipating the second Kenma would notice the name of Daichi’s contact, and he felt Daichi shift closer to him when Kenma lowered his water bottle from his lips, eyes narrowing.

Before Suga could begin to explain, the ringtone cut short. There was a split-second Suga dedicated to a tired resignation, because things were always happening before Suga could prepare for it, seeming to stumble into things with Daichi’s well-worn amiability.

Beside him, Daichi pointed an accusing finger at the grainy image of the man—Kuroo. “Did you ever think to tell me the dude you’ve been staring out a rainy window thinking about is American? Or lived in the same state as Suga did?” Without waiting for a response, Daichi continued, “Like, did you ever consider that with the whole Asahi and Nishinoya clusterfuck, that maybe we’re all connected in some big gay conspiracy?”

“The truth is out there.” Kuroo grinned—and Suga knew that it had to be Kuroo then, with mussed hair and teeth shining in challenge, his lanky figure personified by lazy confidence, a clever quick-wit hidden beneath a veneer of frivolity.

“Just know that if I was there right now, I would’ve kicked your dick in.”

“I can only dream.”

Daichi sighed, reaching for Suga’s hand as it encircled the width of his arm just above his elbow. He ran a hand across his forehead, his shoulders slumping in defeat as Suga sidled into view of the outgoing video.

“Suga,” Kuroo said, his hand raised in a casual wave.

A careful nod in reply. “Kuroo.”

During the lapse in conversation, Suga glanced aside at Kenma, dreading that he’d ruined the one aspect of Kenma’s life he’d forged for himself. He was scared to think he’d robbed Kenma of a friendship he’d achieved without his own direct influence—Kenma’s social circle was Suga’s, found through Suga’s insistence for him to join the volleyball team.

Although, again Suga hadn’t accounted for Daichi being in his life, or how his mere presence managed to invoke strange, wonderful occurrences. Because, Suga had watched Kenma all his life, half protective instinct and half curiosity, but he could never claim to have seen Kenma fail to complete a game, battle, or challenge. School, sleep, people—none had so completely distracted him from a game that he lost of his own volition.

So, when Kenma looked at Kuroo, and looked and looked and looked so long that his controller vibrated in his hands, his character death heralded in a widescreen proclamation, Suga knew he had no reason to doubt Kenma’s feelings.

“Do you want to talk to him?” Suga asked Kenma, needing to affirm what he saw to be true—that Kenma wanted this, that he wouldn’t avoid it out of fear or confusion.

“Yes.” Kenma was so soft-spoken that Suga had trouble hearing him, but when the word passed his lips, Suga noticed how Kuroo straightened in the same instant of time, his expression sobering.

“Okay, I’m just going to leave the Macbook here so you can pick it up when you want, and me and Daichi—”

“Yeah, we’re gonna go,” Daichi said, prompting Suga to hasten his movements.

Lowering the Mac onto the coffee table with a muffled click of contact, Daichi was quick to follow Suga out of his seat, their hands dropping to entangle, fingers sliding together. Just outside of the living room’s threshold, Suga stopped Daichi with one decisive look, a hand pressed to his chest. Daichi nodded, both of them acting in an unspoken agreement to ensure that simple apprehension or impromptu first meetings wouldn’t drastically affect their friend’s happiness.

“Kenma?” It was Kuroo. “You there?”

Suga was sure Kenma could hear his frantic heartbeat in the resulting silence, but his pulse steadied when Daichi’s unoccupied hand slid across his lower back, a constant reassurance.

“You can end the call if you want. It’s okay, we can just go back to playing—”

“Tetsu?”

Suga’s breath caught, Daichi’s fingers flexed against him.

“You need to stop playing Raider class, you’re really not suited to heavy, close-range attacks.”

There was a surprised inhale—Suga, Daichi, Kuroo.

And then, Kuroo’s laughter was spilling out, filling the room with sudden, delighted noise. Awkwardness and tense silences were dispelled in the span of a few seconds, replaced with something warmer, more easy to understand.

“Come on,” Suga whispered against Daichi’s cheek.

He thought himself fortunate that Daichi burst into deep, booming laughter _after_ Suga pulled him outside, and that he felt inclined to chuckle a few seconds after. It was natural then that Daichi would release Suga’s hand to loop an arm around his shoulders, close enough to feel the outline of his body, contented in the warmth and casual intimacy of it.

“Well, that was fucking wild,” Daichi commented, as if to fill the quiet buzz of nature with noise.

Suga hummed in agreement, fitting into the welcoming curve of Daichi’s side, prompting Daichi to tug him nearer, pressing a kiss into his silver-haired crown.

“Wanna go out for tea tonight?”

“Tea?” Suga queried. “But we can get tea here.”

“I mean dinner, fuckwit.”

“Oh, then how about Outback Steakhouse?”

“I was thinking fish and chips,” Daichi suggested.

“What? Australia has fish and chips?

“You guys don’t have fucking fish and chips?” Jerking to a stop, Daichi turned to stare at Suga in open-mouthed disbelief. “Did you want to fucking rob yourself of the simple delights of crumbed fish and chips drowned in chicken salt?”

“Um, it’s fries, not chips,” Suga argued, pressing a reprimanding finger into Daichi’s chest to emphasise his point. The serious line of his mouth eased into a smile he was incapable of suppressing, because Daichi was raising his brows at Suga’s tone, his grin downright rakish. “And I legitimately thought fish and chips was a thing that only existed in Britain, but apparently not.”

“You were _robbed_ , I tell you.”

“So, Outback Steakhouse?”

“Sure thing. Lean dick cuisine it is, bucko,” Daichi replied, seeming appeased with Suga’s choice of fine dining until his he paused, abruptly solemn. “But if they don’t have a shrimp on the barbie or something I’m fucking suing. And if no one makes a Paul Hogan reference the whole corporate chain’s gone. I’m bankrupting it.”

For reference, the number of dates Suga had been one could be counted on one hand, and those miserable, awkward nights that didn’t merit more than a stilted, hollow promise to keep in touch. Never had he prepared for a night out with his date, or had so thoroughly enjoyed the time spent to pick an outfit or apply makeup, because Daichi had hovered over his shoulder when he did so, captivated with the entire process of it.

And Daichi had proceeded to surprise Suga, by holding the door open for him, offering his arm from the short walk from the house to the car, and permitting Suga to choose the radio station. So, it was only logical that Daichi wouldn’t relent in his unpremeditated acts of chivalry, not even in the completely unromantic setting of the Outback Steakhouse parking lot.

“Pony up, bitch,” Daichi said, jogging a few steps ahead of Suga. He stopped, bending his knees and holding his arms outwards in a clear invitation for Suga to jump on his back.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Suga’s voice was coloured with amusement, breathless with it.

“I can be your hero, baby.”

Suga held a hand to his mouth to badly disguised snort of laughter, but after a few moments of consideration, he grinned. Running forward, he jumped onto Daichi’s back, confident that he would catch him—and he did, arms securing Suga’s legs around him in an instant.

“I can kiss away your pain,” Daichi continued to sing, trekking across the asphalt ground to the illuminated beacon of the Outback Steakhouse. “I will stand by you forever. You take my breath away.” He remained unfazed after managing to open the door with one hand and balancing Suga’s entire weight on his back, even when half of the restaurant’s occupants turned to stare at the pair of _total fucking idiots_ they were.

Nearly three hours later, after Daichi’s scathing review of the menu and the majority of the wait staff thinking his accent was fake, Suga followed his infuriated boyfriend out of the restaurant.

“No one thought to remind me that the legal drinking age was twenty-one here,” Daichi hissed.

“But you said you didn’t think Folgers was a real beer anyway.”

“It’s not a real beer.”

In lieu of answering, Suga smiled at how Daichi waited patiently at the roadside kerb, his hand held outstretched to Suga despite his quiet fuming. Suga interlocked their fingers, and they crossed the road together, Daichi listing off what beers he considered to be integral factors to properly enjoying a summer afternoon in Australia.

“Beer just isn’t my cup of tea,” Suga stated as he buckled his seatbelt into a locking position, fingers curling over the steering wheel of his SUV.

Daichi glanced at him with a deliberate slowness, his expression deadpan. “So, you would say that beer ain’t your tankard of ale then?”

“It really isn’t my bowl of soup.”

“Not how you like your meat cooked?” The light-hearted tease was evident in Daichi’s voice, prompting Suga’s smile to widen as he navigated them out of town, the bright gleam of his teeth catching in the periodic flash of the streetlight.

“Not my favourite potato dish.”

“Not your fish and chips?”

“Not my basket of curly fries.”

Their continued stream of banter did eventually ebb into a well-worn silence—well, not strictly _silence_ in a complete absence of noise, but a comfortable quiet. And Suga had always loved driving after sunset, where the harsh glare of sunlight and public scrutiny eased with the encroaching darkness of nightfall. He was fortunate to not have experienced driving with Daichi before, because now he knew what it was to experience an offhand joke or a fleeting smile of unassuming happiness in his direction every quarter mile. Suga didn’t want to forget this, but he also didn’t want to remember it too.

In less than a month, Daichi would be gone, and Suga would have to reaccustom himself to driving alone again, to glimpse a reminder of him in _Naruto_ gifsets, Outback Steakhouse, or any picture, text or meme sharing remote relevance to Australia.

However, his premature nostalgia was short-lived, because Daichi’s hand was tightening around Suga’s knee—it was becoming a habit now, one Suga didn’t wish to ever cure—and Suga was thrust back into reality. He still had time with Daichi, weeks to spend with him, and everything else—their uncertain future, the untouched subject of how they hadn’t kissed yet—was circumstantial.

Although, it was becoming more and more apparent that Daichi was incapable of fretting, whereas Suga was subject to constant agonising over insignificant matters. Because, Suga had come to terms with the fact that maybe there hadn’t been a perfect moment in which Daichi had the opportunity to kiss him, but it didn’t mean that he wanted to wait.

In fact, Suga had surmised that he didn’t care about the setting or mood, he just really fucking wanted to plant one on his hot Australian boyfriend, preferably yesterday.

Now, on the steps to his front door, Suga had never even spared a thought to kissing someone here or the like, but he did entertain the childish fantasy of it happening now, almost wanting to conform to the chaste middle school concept of how a first date should progress. Daichi hadn’t the time to buy flowers or chocolates, or even think of attending a movie, but he’d gladly watched Suga apply makeup with a kind of dumb awe, and he’d carried Suga across a parking lot and paid for his meal, so what that was close enough to a proper date.

The only remaining plausible outcome to the night was Daichi kissing him now, right?

“Suga?”

“Yeah?” He felt Daichi’s fingers close around his and Suga’s breath swelled in his chest, catching for a heartbeat of hopeless anticipation and--

Daichi turned Suga’s hand around the doorknob, where he had been standing for the last thirty seconds in a dazed reverie, and pushed the door open. “You right, babe?” Daichi asked, the searing contact of his touch receding.

“Yeah, fine—I’m fine.” Suga shook his head, attempting to clear the fog from his mind.

The emotion he felt was disappointment, Suga realised, as he locked the door behind him and Daichi. The aching pang of what could have been reverberated in his ribcage, his pulse steadying as his innards coiled, tightening with the desperation of wanting something more than what was already extraordinary.

Suga ignored the feeling, had thought he’d aptly disguised it too, until he and Daichi had retired to his bedroom for the night.

“My sweet little Barry Benson?”

There was a startled moment of incomprehension, then Suga was looking up into his ensuite mirror, whirling around to stare through his bathroom door at the lazy sprawl of Daichi’s figure across his bed.

“Did you just—?” Suga halted, equal parts mortified and disbelieving. “Refer to me as that godforsaken memelord insect?”

“But you’re my honeypot, get it?”

Suga grimaced. “Don’t ever say that to me again.”

“Fine,” Daichi sighed, sounding much too casual for someone who had tried to woo Suga through the means of _Bee Movie_ references. “However, now I have your attention, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, hon.”

“Can I help take your makeup off?”

Bracing a hand against his marble benchtop, Suga raised an eyebrow in question. “Why in God’s green earth would you want to do that?”

“Because I want to love and support you in all your endeavours.”

In his mirrored reflection, Suga saw his expression lighten at Daichi’s honest—albeit ridiculous, but when was Daichi not—admission, his brief sensation of dejection expelled.

“Okay,” Suga agreed, carrying the essential items towards his expectant boyfriend. He sat at the edge of his bed, one leg curled beneath him, an arm’s width from Daichi. “If you poke me in the eye,” Suga warned, “I will scream.”

“You saying that me accidentally stabbing you with my manly fingers is grounds for divorce?”

Suga remained silent as he held a pack of wet wipes out to Daichi in feigned seriousness.

“Think of the children,” Daichi pleaded, taking Suga’s outstretched offering.

Unprepared for Daichi’s sudden shift closer to him, Suga pressed a palm to his comforter as the mattress dipped under their conjoined weight. Soon, a hand had wrapped around the shape of his bent knee, and Daichi manoeuvred Suga’s legs to unfold before pulling it over his lap. Then, with a sudden tightening of his arms around Suga’s waist, Daichi tugged him forward, until both of Suga’s legs had spread wide apart to allow Daichi into his immediate space.

“Um, Daichi?”

“Yeah?” He seemed unconcerned with how their bodies seemed to be in constant contact, tangled together, breaths mingling.

“Just—Be careful.”

Daichi grinned, which would’ve unsettled Suga, but the moment the damp cloth pressed to his skin, Daichi’s touch was gentle. Suga’s breath escaped him in a stuttered gasp, shocked at how Daichi moved with a delicate kind of caution that was unlike his usual loud, brash personality. He rubbed the makeup from Suga’s skin with a firm thoroughness, erasing all traces of makeup, but his movements slowed near Suga’s eyelids, at the crease of his nose, skirting around the shape of his lips.

It shouldn’t have felt erotic, because it was a practical task Suga had done a million times before, but never like this. Never with Daichi so close to him, staring with a single-minded focus to ensure the flicker of his eyelashes or the uptick of his mouth wasn’t discomfort, merely a responsive tic. Daichi treated Suga with a care that held meaning, the realisation causing his heartbeat to rise, heat flooding his cheeks—and Daichi had to feel the warm flush of his skin, he just had to.

Swallowing, Suga flexed his fingers against the bedspread, but before he opened his mouth and blurted something dumb, Daichi pulled away from him. Blinking through a fog of confusion, Suga opened his eyes. Daichi had balled the wet wipe in his grasp, a smudged palate of colour crumpled between his fingers, but he was still looking at Suga.

“I thought you were pretty no matter what the circumstance,” Daichi said, quiet and honest, “but fuck, Suga, you’re something else entirely.”

Suga’s cheek tingled with the light sweep of Daichi’s fingertips over his skin, trailing a path over the line of his jaw, brushing against the tense line of his neck for a moment. His chest rose with a sharp inhale, and Daichi noticed, because his gaze flickered down to Suga’s mouth, teeth sinking into the tender flesh of his own bottom lip.

The air was charged, volatile.

Now, with a bated breath of knowing that something was going to happen, that nothing could stop it, Suga understood what Oikawa had said about wanting it to be special. Meeting Daichi had been special, talking aloud to him was special, and although most of their conversations hadn’t, it was the time and effort and affection that characterised each of their online interaction as something worthwhile.

Fingers drifting to Suga’s chin, Daichi held him in place, like one did when admiring artwork. In an unconscious movement of want, of need, Suga leaned closer into his touch. It didn’t feel like granting Daichi permission to kiss him, but maybe he’d been waiting all this time, because no less than a surprised intake of breath later, Daichi was closing the space between them.

Daichi’s lips skimmed across Suga’s skin, first where his beauty spot marked his cheek, then lower, lower, lower, until their mouths met in a gentle brush of touch, melding into a long-awaited union.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello friendos im back and look at this mess i just kept on wrITING AND IT WOULDN'T STOP HELP ME PLS. ALSO THANKS LAUREN U ACTUALLY EDITED THIS IN A TIMELY FASHION BITCH ILY (ur a gem for putting up with the kuroken, australian/british spelling, run-on commas and me).
> 
> also the tender love and affection that is iwaoi smut that beautifulkawa and muscles-chan were recovering from at the start of this chapter can be read [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10045517)!
> 
> EDIT; I THINK I DIDN'T EXPLAIN THE WHOLE KUROKEN THING TO WELL but kenma was wearing a headset whilst playing an xbox game because he was in a online gaming party with kuroo, so he had an attached microphone and headphones. meaning they could talk to each other but subsequently only kenma could hear him, so when daichi played for kenma he took the headset and talked to kenma's gaming pal, promptly recognised kuroo's voice. capiche?


	22. I'm Gonna Be Hoka-Gay One Day!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first kiss was a chaste affair, a sweet press of lips before withdrawal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title shamelessly stolen from naruto #ripnaruto2k17.

Their first kiss was a chaste affair, a sweet press of lips before withdrawal.

You see, Daichi had thought about kissing Suga for a while now—for countless days, weeks, months, even a year or so. He had imagined it, had wanted it with a fierce ache the moment he was able to feel the familiar shape of Suga beneath his fingertips, but Daichi had not prepared for it.

Because, in the slow breath of anticipation between wanting and touching, Daichi realised this moment did not even belong in the same realm of all his experiences beforehand. He had kissed with a nervous stutter of a heartbeat, with the regretful haze of alcohol, with casual ease of platonic love. Never had he kissed someone he loved in every romantic sense—emotionally and physically, with an unequivocal assurance that his life would only improve if he spent it with Suga beside him.

So, the kiss—their first, one of so much more to come—was something borne of complete ease and affection, grounded in their firm understanding of each other.

And Daichi was a realist, practical to a fault, and he knew it sounded like hopeless romantic idealism to believe that everything he wanted began and ended with Suga. But he had known Suga for a year and a half now, and despite the countless issues and misgivings of pursuing on online relationship until it became a tangible connection, Daichi’s feelings were concrete. He didn’t need to think about what could happen, because in this moment, Daichi was content in the knowledge he loved Suga, and Suga loved him back.

Then, because he could do nothing else, Daichi looked at Suga with a single-minded need to know how he felt, how he would react under each precise touch of fingers or lips. However, despite Daichi’s unshaken confidence following their first kiss, Suga was embarrassed, quick to avoid Daichi’s perceptive gaze and duck his head to hide his smile in the curve of Daichi’s neck.

“You alright, babe?” Daichi asked, hands dropping to wind around Suga’s waist. A safe location.

There was a brief moment of contemplation where he thought bringing their bodies closer would serve as an awkward distraction rather than a comfort, but the contact prompted Suga to curl into Daichi. Hot breath fanned over Daichi’s neck, Suga’s mouth parting as he made an affirmative noise in muffled response, and Daichi pressed his cheek to Suga’s head in silent reassurance.

Later, Daichi felt Suga draw backwards, hands sliding over the breadth of his chest.

“You want to—?” Daichi felt compelled to ask, to ensure mutual consent and understanding before he was stopped at the sudden nearness of Suga to him, his mind emptying in one decisive action.

Suga was kissing Daichi, an inspiring upsurge of courage rendering Daichi stunned, however just for a second—because then he was spurned into movement, freefalling into the boundless possibilities of that which he could do now. After a short lifetime of inconveniences, of distance and doubt and deliberation, it was blissful to even exist in the same space as each other, to love without the reliance on electronic communication.

Their second kiss was uncoordinated in their excitement, but nonetheless meaningful.

Their third kiss, and fourth, fix, sixth—each was more purposeful than the last, and Daichi was glad that he had been able to wait so long before meeting Suga, because their shared initial bashfulness was fleeting. Their relationship had been rooted in the strong foundations of trust, of knowing one another in an intimate, non-sexual sense before this—this wholesome culmination of a strong beginning and middle, finding a fitting end.

Daichi counted more kisses—seventh, eighth, and so on—and then he stopped counting, focusing instead on the hot glide of Suga’s tongue against his. He paid heed to when Suga’s fingers gripped the material of his shirt tighter, when his breath escaped in a soft whimper, when he pressed closer to Daichi as if he was desperate to bridge the remaining space between them.

Daichi catalogued each moment into a list of firsts, a string of memories he would take home with him, wishing he could force the images into existence so it would never fade or blur into nothing.

A cord of unmistakable tension tightened low in Daichi’s stomach, his heartbeat a loud, insistent thud in his ears—an animal instinct of want and claim and need.

His hands curled around Suga’s knees, urging them closer, to wrap around his waist. Suga was helpless under Daichi’s gentle-firm attention, a willing invitation—his mouth opening, feet locking together behind Daichi’s back. He must’ve made a noise, a weak imitation of a growl, because Suga was pliant beneath his fingers and lips, seeking more.

It was impossible to think this was happening, that when he broke apart from Suga to trail tender kisses against his neck, that sweet, beautiful Suga would clutch him as if he was desperate, uttering a small, unguarded gasp. Emboldened, Daichi grazed his teeth against Suga’s skin, and then Suga’s spine was arching, their groans merging into a whisper of contact.

It wasn’t enough, was hardly enough to act as more than a prelude, but the possibilities of where it would lead was clear—less clothes, more teeth and tongue, more skin.

“Daichi?” Suga stilled.

He pulled back, his breath a rough pant. “Yeah?”

“Didn’t we promise to… not do anything till I graduated?”

It was true, although then Daichi realised, with a panging ache, that he wanted Suga. His desires had been repressed due to distance, and reliance on the unreceptive technology, but each second longer he spent with Suga the more his feelings coalesced into a simpler, stronger sense of want. But he soon dismissed the urge, prioritising his respect for Suga’s boundaries over something as fickle as teenage hormones.

Knowing it’d be better for them both if they were responsible and waited, Daichi’s shoulders sagged in defeat, uttering a low groan of dejection as he slumped against Suga.

“Responsibility is sexy, responsibility is sexy,” Daichi repeated, a mantra to convince himself of just that. He was rewarded with the slight shake of Suga’s chest against him, and his chuckle was like all his others, quiet and unassuming—and Daichi’s heart swelled to know he’d made Suga happy, if just for a moment.

Running a hand along Suga’s spine, Daichi kissed Suga’s cheek in silent comfort, murmuring a soft, mindless reassurance as Suga nuzzled into his neck. It was an unthinking gesture of pleasure, like a cat stretching in dawn-warm light, or the quiet hums of the sleepy.

“Okay,” Daichi said later, an absent thought made flesh, “but despite acting as my own personal cockblock, I gotta say I had been wanting to do that for a while.”

Suga withdrew to reveal the downward pull of his mouth.

“What—”

“You—” Suga stopped, started again. “You mean to tell me that after I spent the whole last two days thinking you were content with holding hands and making stupid little jokes when, like me, you also really,  _ really _ wanted to kiss me.”

Daichi looked at Suga in dumb incomprehension, glancing aside if he could find an answer in unoccupied space, then back to Suga. “You were waiting for me to make a move this whole time?”

Suga’s mouth was a thin, unimpressed line, his silence almost eerie until he jerked forward into motion, slapping the palm of his hand across Daichi’s chest. “Yes!” He exclaimed, as if it was obvious. “Of course I was waiting for my boyfriend to kiss me, you idiot. I can’t believe—did you really think I hadn’t wondered about what it’d be like to kiss for the past year or so?”

A stunned blink. “Um, well—”

“You’re so dense.” Suga sighed, but the sharpness of his remark was soft with well-worn endearment, lacking cruel intentions. His head tipped forward, returning to the waiting cradle of Daichi’s neck.

Curling his fingers in Suga’s silver-fine hair, the air emptied from Daichi’s lungs. He laughed, thinking how he was growing accustomed to feeling like this—serene. A half made into a perfect whole when Suga remained beside him. Warm with a pure, clean love, one that didn’t seem possible to exist in such a dark, cynical world. Now he was faced to deal with the repercussions of separating himself from Suga, but Daichi refused to think about that, he couldn’t do such right now.

“Daichi?”

“Yeah?” His voice was soft, unwilling to shatter the quiet.

“You know how I started looking for colleges to attend in the fall, right?”

Daichi made a low noise of affirmation.

“And I’ve sent a couple applications out already, but I was considering maybe… applying to a few Australian colleges?” Suga’s voice shook with nervousness, attempting to mask his failing confidence. He halted, refusing to look at Daichi until he replied.

Daichi sighed, unable to believe Suga needed to ask. “I’d be up for whatever the fuck you wanted to do, babe,” he said. “We’ve got this far, so living in the same country—or even the same city—would be a goddamn breeze.”

He wasn’t surprised that Suga didn’t move to look at Daichi, but he could feel more than see the tension bleed from his frame, tight-locked limbs loosening in overwhelming relief. Pulling Suga closer to him, bridging the remaining space between them until Suga could do naught but rest in Daichi’s embrace, enfolded into it.

“If you do ever come down to live in Australia,” Daichi said, a gentle suggestion, “and we were on break, I’d take you to my favourite camping spot in the world.”

Suga’s nose brushed Daichi’s throat, an obvious cue to continue.

“There’s this real nice place, about an hour’s drive from this station boat ramp.”

“What’s it like?”

“It’s on a little sandbar right on this riverbend, with these big, old gum trees flanking you, facing these sandstone cliffs in the distance. And not much people go out that way, like it’s pretty secluded and shit. You’d hardly see two other boats in one day.”

“Sounds splendid,” was Suga’s pleasant remark, ignoring how Daichi snorted at his choice of adjective. “What’s it called?”

“Brokeback Mountain.”

Again, Suga slapped Daichi’s chest in a reprimanding action, although he didn’t act in malicious intent—rather the opposite. Daichi felt the laughter reverberate through the bones of his ribcage, watching as Suga was helpless to do naught but grin and laugh too, with the same happy weightlessness that characterised all their interactions thus far.

“Oh, wait,” Daichi said, sitting up with a surprising abruptness, “that reminds me. I still gotta treat you to a classical movie marathon—you said you ain’t watched  _ Shaun Of The Dead _ a while back or some shit.”

A sense of relief flooded through Daichi’s chest as he watched Suga rest his chin on his propped hand, following Daichi’s movements as he slid off the bed. He rummaged through his suitcase across the room, revealing his laptop under a swath of rumpled clothes.

“Does this have to include animated films?” Suga asked.

“Fuck yeah, kiddo.” Daichi snorted, because it was offensive to even think otherwise. “But I think I’m gonna start on Hayao Miyazaki’s childhood gems before moving on to complicated shit like Satoshi Kon’s stuff or even the dude who did  _ Wolf Children. _ Or my lord and saviour Noritaka Kawaguchi.” He deposited his laptop onto the bed beside Suga, the loading screen a glaring, frozen blue.

“What are you doing?” Suga asked once he realised Daichi was disrobing. His shirt already hung lopsided from his forearm, balancing on one precarious foot as he tugged his shoes off.

“I told you I sleep naked, so you’d expect me to at least be semi-comfortable when I watch movies, right?”

“And what exactly is semi-comfortable?”

“No shoes, no shirt, and I still get to cuddle cute boys.”

Raising an eyebrow into a delicate arch, Suga coolly appraised Daichi’s state of attire—or lack of it. He had stripped down to red, white-lined briefs and plain socks, holding his arms out as if to invite Suga to look and admire. Suga crossed his ankles, and Daichi had to wonder if somehow, he felt self-conscious in the wake of exposed skin and muscle.

Granting Suga a few seconds to recover—Daichi was smug to think even part nudity could render Suga flushed, but he persisted—and turned around to drop his shoes beside his suitcase. He was prepared to speak, or make a joke, but he was startled at the sound of Suga’s sudden burst of laughter.

Daichi whirled around. “What?”

His amusement stifled through an interlocked cage of fingers sealed across his mouth, Daichi followed Suga’s bright gaze to—his ass.

He stopped, confused for a few brief seconds before sickening realisation.

“Kuroo got me these, okay?”

Across the span of his ass, printed in white, block letters, were the words— _ Are you nasty? _

Daichi pointed an accusing finger at Suga, readied to argue Suga’s quickfire retort, but instead Suga grew silent. Gawking, the teasing gleam of his expression faded as a few sparse, incomprehensible words slipped from Suga’s mouth, and he stared.

Curious, Daichi unfolded the tight knot of his shirt in his hands in a long, drawn-out motion, redistributing his weight to his other foot so his hip cocked to the side—and still Suga stared.

“Suga?” Daichi prompted.

“You…” Glancing downwards, flushed with embarrassment, Suga seemed to find composure a few seconds later. “Daichi,” he said instead, coughing as if to clear his throat, “as much as I commend your complete lack of inhibitions, can you really attest to being... nasty?”

Daichi grinned, forgetting his previous seriousness. “I say believe, achieve.”

“Did you really just pass up on a perfect opportunity to make a  _ Naruto _ reference?”

A long, terrible pause passed. “I’m disgusted with myself,” he spat. “Truly, fucking disgusted.”

“Enough to grit the name Sasuke through your teeth?”

“Always—Wait!”

Suga drew back, expectant if a little scared. “What?”

“I got a better one. You ready?”

Suga nodded.

“Believe it, achieve it.”

Daichi sat at the foot of Suga’s bed, the two of them smiling at each other in dumb, teenage joy, and Daichi was struck unaware at just how beautiful Suga was then. He was crafted from something soft, timeless, like he was made to read poetry or carry a Polaroid camera with him. Suga reminded Daichi of herbal tea, knitted sweaters, and autumn landscapes, and soon his emotions were overflowing, the words were spilling from the seam of his lips.

“You remind me of the twenty letters of the alphabet,” Daichi said, because he was an ill-advised, romantic idiot at heart.

Suga frowned. “But there’s twenty-six letters in the alphabet.”

A side of Daichi’s mouth was curling, slow and deliberate. He knew Suga had grown accustomed to watching the action unfold in real-time now, although the explicit implications of it was dangerous—how it flirted with proposition.

“Daichi—”

“How could I forget U-R-A-Q-T.”

“That’s only five letters,” Suga argued after a belated pause, attempting to mask how a furious burst of heat flooded his face. Daichi’s heartbeat thudded, a swell of warmth filling the space of his ribcage, delighted to see how he could much a careless pick-up line could affect Suga.

“Because I’ll give you the D later.”

Desperate not to remain still, to ignore how his entire being thrummed with electric tension, Daichi stalked across the bed, a hand cupping the bare flesh just above Suga’s knee. There was a moment where Daichi thought he’d undermined the trust Suga had entrusted him not to break, because Suga’s pupils widened, darkened too, but it was clear that Daichi was moving with an intent to incite touch.

And it was wrong, because Daichi had agreed that he could wait, that time was inconsequential when they both  _ knew _ that one day—soon, hopefully very soon—that they would be together.

Transfixed, Daichi watched Suga’s chest rise before deflating, the breath caught in Suga’s throat escaping in a controlled exhale before his expression lightened, lined with a jovial happiness. Unprepared for the movement of Suga rising onto his elbows, Daichi didn’t notice how Suga’s arm stretched into a wide, swinging arc, a reprimanding pillow flung in his general direction.

“Stop trying to seduce me!” Suga protested, but he was laughing as he said it, bright and air-light with amusement—and Daichi knew he hadn’t fucked up, that it would be okay.

“I’m sorry fucking cheesy pick-up lines work on you.” Daichi felt weightless at how the atmosphere had eased into comfort, good humour colouring his voice as he reached for the pillow Suga had thrown at him.

As Daichi raised the offending weapon high over his head, Suga raised his arms in a mock show of defence, deflecting Daichi’s cotton-soft blow. He smiled wider at the sound of Suga’s shrieks, laughing with an exaggerated menace as he bought the pillow down against the protective brace of Suga’s arms, and soon Suga was also armed, playfully striking Daichi’s side.

“I’m not the one wearing booty shorts!” Suga argued, voice high-pitched with laughter. He lunged forward, the impact forcing Daichi to tumble backwards, wrapping an arm around Suga’s waist to bring him down too. They laughed for a few seconds longer, and it was a slow wind down from an adrenaline-fuelled battle to the death, their skirmish meeting a final, contented end.

Their amusement quieted soon after, excitement dwindling when Suga glanced aside and saw it was growing late—both them tired in the post-blissful haze of fine dining and night-time drives. They parted, Daichi slipping underneath the bedcovers to pull his hibernating laptop across his lap as Suga stepped into the bathroom to dress into his pyjamas, and soon reunited.

They fell asleep not even half an hour later, despite the exhilarating rush of rapid-fire editing of  _ Hot Fuzz _ , the light glimmering off the laptop screen like an illuminated beacon.

And, the next day, Daichi awoke in the same bed as Suga, and the day after, and after again. Most mornings Daichi made breakfast, because he was a top bloke who woke at the ass-crack of dawn and loved a good serving of fried bacon—although it had to be turkey bacon, because Suga detested the greasy monstrosity that was normal pork bacon.

Afterwards, Daichi and Suga followed a set routine, one that kept them so busy they had no time to think of the imminent future. And, between visits to Kenma’s sheltered home, to the wildly unpredictable outings—or double dates, as Daichi liked to tease—with Oikawa and Iwaizumi, and the unbalanced but so wholly fulfilling dynamic of meet-ups with Asahi and Nishinoya, Daichi was happy.

He was decidedly content, but nothing could rival the level of satisfaction found in crawling into bed with Suga when the orange brushstrokes of dawn faded into the dark ink stains of a star-studded sky. There they would watch movies Suga hadn’t seen before, snacking on his endless reserves of American candy, and Daichi would make regular trips downstairs to bring steaming cups of tea to Suga’s bedside, Walt a constant presence wound around his vulnerable ankles and wrists as he slid under the bedcovers to entangle again with Suga.

It continued on like that, spending time together as if they lived together—in quiet, comfortable camaraderie of long-term relationships, their importance to each other assured rather than questioned. Slow, it felt slow too, like it would never end—but then the remaining days were numbered, three, two, one—and Daichi was sitting beside Suga outside his designated airport terminal.

_ Twenty minutes— _

_ Nineteen— _

_ Eighteen— _

He stood up, running his free hand over the denim legs of his jeans, a nervous tic. His other arm stretched towards Suga, their fingers interlinked even as his boot tapped against the ground, unwilling to allow the moment to end.

“Daichi?”

_ Seventeen— _

He glanced at Suga, the echo of an ache pounding beneath his sternum.

_ Sixteen— _

“Daichi?”

“Yeah?” He wound his arms across Suga’s lower back now, because he was standing, their bodies aligned under the shine of harsh overhead lighting, like a movie couple illuminated centre-stage.

“I know you’re leaving soon, but I had to tell you something, and I know I had to do it sooner—”

Resting his forehead against Suga’s, Daichi waited, basking in the simple pleasure of being able to exist in the same space as him for a few moments longer.

“I started  _ Naruto _ the night we Skyped for the first time,” Suga said.

Daichi drew backwards, his eyebrows creased in confusion. “But that was, like, about a year ago or something. Does that mean you got through Zabuza and Haku’s heartbreaking story of tragedy and forgot to tell me? Or did you call it quits when that bucket hat kid’s dog nearly drowned?”

“No,” Suga said with a serene, serious calm, “it means I had enough time to finish both the entire episode runs of the original and  _ Shippuden _ , and watch all eleven movies when it was most relevant to the storyline.”

“What?” His pulse skittered.

“And the real reason I didn’t want to watch the last episode with you this week was because I hadn’t seen it yet and if I started crying you would’ve known I’d watched it before.”

Daichi’s response was automatic, blurred under the oppressive overhead call for boarding. He still continued to look at Suga in dumb astonishment until Asahi tugged at his sleeve, beckoning him to join the forming line to board. Stunned, disbelieving, Daichi followed Asahi, too preoccupied with the clusterfuck that was his boyfriend watching  _ Naruto _ and not fucking telling him to realise this was it. This was their final moment, for however much longer.

Thrusting his carry-on luggage into Asahi’s arms, Daichi marched forward, passing all airport staff and the line of passengers who stared at him as he walked forward with a single-minded determination. Suga’s smile dimmed, worried, but before he could open his mouth to speak or reach for Daichi’s wrist, he was kissing him.

It was the grand declaration Daichi had expected when he’d first arrived—kissing in the middle of public, unconcerned with who saw or what they thought, focused on the mere knowledge that Suga was here with him. A goodbye made flesh—a promise etched into Suga’s skin and mind under the decisive press of Daichi to him, fleeting but firm—and then he was gone.

His ticket accepted, feet passing the threshold into a space where Suga wasn’t allowed to follow him, he cast a casual wave cast over his shoulder in Suga’s direction—because he couldn’t look back now. He couldn’t, not as Asahi was at his shoulder, blubbering a farewell to Nishinoya. He couldn’t think about saying goodbye, instead forced himself to forget he could still taste Suga on his lips, and hooked his fingers into his pockets.

But, Daichi knew he couldn’t end it like this, though. Not like this—brief and unfamiliar.

Wasting no time to fish his phone from his jacket and repeat what he’d said before—what had been so unjustly censored—Daichi moved to open his Tumblr messenger. It struck him as ironic, that the first thing he said to Suga once their separation was imminent, a reality which he’d grown apprehensive to even think about prior, was:

**thighmaster1: fuc k u sasuke,,**

_ sweetsuga: *Suck my ass. _

It was surprising, wonderful, to know that Daichi could turn his back to Suga and still be able to laugh. And even though he was leaving, the noise burst from him, loud and sudden, drifting through the stream of surrounding passengers like a tangible happiness. A few other passengers glared, some glancing over their shoulders in mild irritation as Daichi boarded too, the latter still laughing. He continued to do so, his conscience eased with a pleasant lack of angst, his breath quieting to a ridiculous strained wheezing as he forced his carry-on luggage into the overhead compartment and slid into his assigned seat beside an embarrassed Asahi.

However, he wasn’t laughing when the airplane heaved to life, because he was staring at the wide plane of glass where he supposed Suga was watching him from, somehow content in the conceptual knowledge that he was leaving Suga.

Because, one day, he and Suga would meet again, and he’ll demand to continue the conversation Suga had so wrongly deprived them of ever having. Daichi could foretell that, after reuniting with Suga in some grand public scene he’d be sure to make memorable, he’d coerce Suga into spending the next three hours at the nearest McDonald’s.

Then, so would begin the longest conversations of their collective lives—when Suga started watching Naruto, when he finished it, did he or didn’t he watch the fillers, who was his favourite character, what pivotal moment made him first cry first? And, most importantly, was he promptly fucked up whenever he glimpsed even a second of Itachi onscreen following the emotional wreckage of the Fated Battle Between Brothers arc?

Daichi knew he would laugh between now and then, he’ll see his friends and family a hundred times over and drink and work and talk to Suga through a number of different technical mediums. And he’ll be assured in the knowledge that when he does, in fact, see Suga again, Daichi will be prepared for it—their beginning and endings, and their forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i think my reason for an impromptu three week hiatus is that i was waylaid by finishing the emotional rollercoaster that is hxh in the same week the last ep of naruto shippuden was released and was promptly fucked up there. w o W THAT WAS A SHIT APOLOGY FOR MY LACK OF UPDATES ;-; I'M A HORRIBLE, DIRTY WEEB ;-;
> 
> but, my good friends, i shall return to ur regularly scheduled weekly updates now since i can just do short text-based chapters and shit. pls still love and validate me. thanks for sticking with me too <3


	23. Actual Cannibal Shia LaBeouf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _sweetsuga: I can attest to the playlist I made for you also being good, worthwhile content._
> 
> _sweetsuga: And I might be persuaded to watch some more anime if I had six months of spare time and wasn’t currently trying to discuss future education or employment options with Noya._
> 
> **thighmaster1: yes i am aware of suhc great thangs u do~~**
> 
> **thighmaster1: //legit ur th e good, worhtwhile bf**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lauren actually made the playlist (for me) which is mentioned throughout the fic, and it can be found and listened to [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/laurencasserole/playlist/2kOQoRKNAoolCPthh7gw8Z)! think of it as the official soundtrack of message sent lol.

**thighmaster1: why does hte hella rad playlist u amde me ,**

**thighmaster1: ((whcih has 69 percfect sexy ass songs carefully curated 2 us))**

**thighmaster1: have fuckign jason batman tenderly cradling elmo as the playlsit icon??**

_sweetsuga: Because I adore my lord and savior Jason Bateman._

**thighmaster1: tru tru,, he is a gift**

**thighmaster1 but damn i can bop 2 teh thrme of king jj**

_sweetsuga: JJ? Really?_

**thighmaster1: u didn’t tell me ue even watched arnuto so suck a cocok**

**thighmaster1: so im allowed ot like which ever dickehad maple leaves i want**

**thighmaster1: //also how is yuuri on ice & naruto the only animu we got in common ?**

**thighmaster1: like,, cmon**

_sweetsuga: But they both include good, worthwhile content._

**thighmaster1: wathc s2 of attack o n titan nd boku no hero acadmia already u dingelberry**

**thighmaster1: holy fucKK**

**thighmaster1:  u gt love is an open of door on ehre??**

_sweetsuga: I can attest to the playlist I made for you also being good, worthwhile content._

_sweetsuga: And I might be persuaded to watch some more anime if I had six months of spare time and wasn’t currently trying to discuss future education or employment options with Noya._

**thighmaster1: yes i am aware of suhc great thangs u do~~**

**thighmaster1: //legit ur th e good, worhtwhile bf**

**thighmaster1:  who makess solid asss collections o sick beats**

_sweetsuga:_ ♪٩(✿′ᗜ‵✿)۶♪

**thighmaster1: !!**

**thighmaster1: omg**

_sweetsuga: What?_

**thighmaster1: I hear the sweet swet sounds of acutla cannibal shia labeouf**

**thighmaster1: there sno one around and ur phone is dead**

**thighmaster1: outta the corner of ur eye u sopt him**

**thighmaster1: *whispers***

_sweetsuga: Shia LaBeouf._

**thighmaster1: shia laBEOUGF**

**thighmaster1: //nothing quite gets me like actual cnanbial shia labeouf,,**

**thighmaster1: brandhishng a knife**

**thighmaster1: lurking in the shadoooowss**

**thighmaster1: hollwood superstar shia labeuf**

_sweetsuga: Sharpening an ax…_

**thighmaster1: shia laboeuf!!**

_sweetsuga: You’re sneaking up behind him…_

**thighmaster1: strangling superstar shai laboeuf !**

_sweetsuga: Stabbing his kidney…_

**thighmaster1: safe at last,, from sshia labouf!!!**

**thighmaster1: guess my fav apart form that song~~**

_sweetsuga: Wait! He isn’t dead! Shia Surprise!_

_sweetsuga: Body-slam superstar Shia LaBeouf, legendary fight with Shia LaBeouf!_

_sweetsuga: Normal Tuesday night, for Shia LaBeouf!_

**thighmaster1: :’)))**

**thighmaster1: u gto me~~ its dat whole verse**

**thighmaster1: the fated battle with my king shia lakickass**

**thighmaster1: waITT**

_sweetsuga: Yes, what is it, my love?_

**thighmaster1: lol calling me loev huh u gayyyyyy**

_sweetsuga:_ （ノ・＿・）．．．．．．

**thighmaster1: shit**

**thighmaster1: if u gay uw oudlnt love me**

**thighmaster1: me@ me: u plalyed urself**

_sweetsuga: Accept the mistakes of your past and move on._

_sweetsuga: And apologize to me while you’re at it, you gloriously sculpted ass._

**thighmaster1: soz bae ily <33**

**thighmaster1:  n d ur ass is x8u3934086 better than mine wt f**

**thighmaster1: okayy~~ moving on**

**thighmaster1: whose elmo & whose jsaon the bateman of all bates in our relatiosniop??**

_sweetsuga: You’re asking who is the scruffy, sarcastic loveable human to their small, furry counterpart out of the two of us? Really?_

**thighmaster1: yeet**

Before Suga could begin to even scrape the subject of who was a better fit in the odd comparable relationship of Jason Bateman and Elmo, Nishinoya’s sharp elbow dug into his side. Muffling a whimper of pain—because Noya was used to throwing his limbs out on the court, although the sharp points of his bones were not typically aimed at people—Suga turned to him slowly, to avoid further suffering.

“This one’s pretty good,” Noya said, angling his laptop screen before pointing. Ducking his head, Suga recognised the sprawling home page of a university website he’d visited many times before.

“It’s alright,” Suga conceded, “but it predominantly offers science-based courses.”

“Asahi said it’s closer to the inner city, though! Be easier to get around and stuff.”

**thighmaster1: yeet ia m**

After one last cursory glance, Suga placed his phone face-down on the table, because he shouldn’t be talking to Daichi right now. Out of his own accord, Noya had asked Suga for his assistance in determining whether he should attend university or not. It was disrespectful to treat his as a second priority, especially considering the anguish Suga went through querying his friends one each step of his own future plan.

Perching his elbow on the table, Suga asked, “I thought you said you’d rather work in the same town as Asahi then study away from him in the city?”

“I did, but I wanted your opinion.”

In lieu of a response, Suga raised a questioning eyebrow—it should be Noya’s decision, not his.

At Suga’s silence, Noya turned to catch sight of his expression, snorting at it. “Don’t give me that look! You’ve probably been planning what colours to use for your and Daichi’s wedding since you guys Skyped and I don’t even know what I want to study.”

“For your information, we decided on grey and white scheme to match the suit we’re dressing Daichi’s dogs in,” Suga pausing, allowing Noya a few seconds to laugh in wide-eyed astonishment before continuing, “and you don’t need to study at all. Daichi says it’s a lot more commonplace to go straight to work in Australia, and he’s been on a gap years for two years now. Look at Asahi, he’s never going to go to college and he’s fine.”

Nishinoya’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip, chewing in contemplation.

“Noya,” Suga said, fingers curling around Noya’s wrist until he stopped thinking, until his attention was directed at Suga. “Just because I applied to the same college Daichi did, for the same year of enrolment, doesn’t mean that you have to study with me.”

His eyes flashing with something like gratitude, or relief, Noya nodded. “Asahi was worried I wasn’t doing it for myself, that I was coming to Australia just for him.” He sighed, too quiet, his lack of wild exuberance almost unsettling.

“But you’re not doing that, right?” Suga asked, cautious of his answer.

“I’m just like you! I want to be with Asahi as much as you do with Daichi, countries be fucked.” Noya announced suddenly, slamming his fist into the vulnerable flesh of Suga’s upper arm with his usual level of intimidation enthusiasm. “I thought you of all people would understand.”

Ignoring the few stray stares cast in their direction following Noya’s outburst, Suga rubbed his arm absentmindedly, his smile a dim comparison to Noya’s grin.

“Then you do or don’t want to study?”

“Fuck no,” Noya laughed, amused Suga even had to ask, “I’ll just go live with Asahi and help save animals with him. I’ll tell my parents tonight then.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” Assured their conversation had reached a sufficient end, Suga returned his focus to his mobile as Noya did his laptop, lapsing again into comfortable silence.

**thighmaster1: babe??**

**thighmaster1: sweeTUMS ??**

**thighmaster1: PUMPKIN PIE ??? /?**

_sweetsuga: I’m here, forming an appropriate answer to your ludicrous question._

**thighmaster1: ;))))**

_sweetsuga: Okay, so maybe you’re Jason because you’re the pure ray of sunshine hiding a kinky, hilarious dark side._

_sweetsuga: And I’m the cutie just wanting to be held in your big strong arms._

**thighmaster1: oh no,,**

**thighmaster1: I just had a weird mentla image of us**

**thighmaster1: engaging in coitus**

**thighmaster1: ..,,.. but as jason & elmo**

_sweetsuga: Daichi!_

**thighmaster1: im sososoooo sorrrrryyy!!!!**

**thighmaster1: forgive mE SENPAI 4 HOW I HAVE SINNED !!**

_sweetsuga: The door is right there! Take it. Leave. Disappear._

**thighmaster1: IMMMA DIRTY DISGUSTING ASS WEEBB D:**

_sweetsuga: Trust me, I know… I know._

_sweetsuga: But do I qualify as a weeb now I’ve watched Naruto?_

**thighmaster1: idk binchh**

**thighmaster1: maybe whe n u tell me how muhc eps u watched**

**thighmaster1: or if u did teh filler arcs or nope**

_sweetsuga: I’m saving it for when we met again._

**thighmaster1: u wnt even tell me who ur fav caharacter is**

_sweetsuga: Honey, please_.

**thighmaster1: im sloghtly offended**

**thighmaster1: im ur pardner in dick & u do this 2 me??**

**thighmaster1: thoes who break teh rules are scum,,., but those who betray their frreinds ar worse than smcum**

_sweetsuga: Kakashi-sensei, I’m sorry you sometimes get lost down the wayward path of life, but chill._

**thighmaster1: mate**

**thighmaster1: m8**

**thighmaster1: I gotta important quesiton here~~**

_sweetsuga: Hit me up (hit me up inside)._

**thighmaster1: ca nt hit me up sindie**

**thighmaster1: savvvee meme from memself**

_sweetsuga: Okay, let’s return to the question at hand._

**thighmaster1: yes lets**

**thighmaster1: get down 2busines**

_sweetsuga: Daichi, stop._

**thighmaster1: 2defeat**

**thighmaster1: the h  u ns**

_sweetsuga: I’m trying to plan my future, not save all of China._

**thighmaster1: tis not my faut u put this on our ggoddamn playslist**

_sweetsuga: Aren’t you meant to be in a state of a semi-incoherent hangover?_

**thighmaster1: austraylia day was abd idea**

**thighmaster1:  esp when my boyz come down for the holiday 2 celebraete ayyeyeee**

_sweetsuga: I remember the Snapchats vividly, you need not remind me._

**thighmaster1: yep**

**thighmaster1: i need not rememebr dat shit tho**

_sweetsuga: Kuroo’s ass struck me the most deeply, though._

**thighmaster1: he awas naked???????when ???**

**thighmaster1: ohwait**

_sweetsuga: It was sometime after you decided to walk to the McDonald’s parking lot sometime after three in the afternoon and forced Asahi to drive the boat_.

**thighmaster1: ah yes**

**thighmaster1: myy wild idea too sober usup**

_sweetsuga: And during the said hour-long journey from your camping spot to the local mooring, somehow Kuroo ended up falling into the river. He lost both his pants and his wallet but managed to hold his beer above water._

**thighmaster1: whatta legend**

**thighmaster1:  my son is a good man,, he died a braeve heros death**

_sweetsuga: Also, because Kuroo was currently pantless and very much a threat to appropriate social standards, you couldn’t leave the boat._

**thighmaster1: haha and then what ;)**

_sweetsuga: I blocked you on Kik._

**thighmaster1: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

_sweetsuga: Please, no._

_sweetsuga: But I can disclose the information that Akaashi went to buy some fish and chips and Jesus remained to protect your poor undignified souls_.

**thighmaster1: ehh gotme crabstucisk**

**thighmaster1: what to heck wsa that spelling**

**thighmaster1: *he got me crabsticks**

**thighmaster1: //i mean akasshi did tha t pretty bastarsd**

**thighmaster1: i think i creid a littlle bit actualy**

_sweetsuga: You did._

_sweetsuga: So, did Bokuto, but that was because he thought Akaashi was some deity bearing gifts to you common mortals._

**thighmaster1: im not too sure baout gods,, bt I did met na angel once**

**thighmaster1: ithink u know who t hey a re~~**

**thighmaster1: some pretty silverhaired amurican fucker w/a  great ass**

_sweetsuga:_ (♡´❍`♡)*✧ ✰ ｡*

_sweetsuga: Oh, Dadchi, how you flatter me. How I swoon._

**thighmaster1: it s a gift o mine~~ to flatter cuties**

**thighmaster1: plus i gotta love & support my bae at all possibel moment s <3**

_sweetsuga:_ (/^.^(^.^*)>

There was a quiet clatter of a chair being pulled backwards, and a person slid into a seat opposite Suga, making enough noise to cause him to look up. He should’ve predicted it to be Oikawa, loud enough to garner attention but quiet.

The day after Daichi left, Suga had told Oikawa about his intentions to attend college in Australia. At first, Oikawa was distraught at the mere thought of not spending every waking minute of the rest of his life in accessible range to his best friend and close confidant—completely ignoring the fact Iwaizumi would most certainly support and encourage Oikawa through any major decision better than Suga ever could.

Suga was accustomed to Oikawa’s over-dramatic reactions too, so his initial frustrated anger dissipated in the span of two nights, because he didn’t want to lose his best friend in a test of pettiness. However, Oikawa’s moods were fickle, short-fused things. And, Suga was comforted in Iwaizumi’s assurances that given the right time and convincing, Oikawa would eventually warm to the idea of Suga “leaving him in the cold lurch of abandonment” to study abroad.

Attempting to thaw the that had characterised their social encounters for the past fortnight, Suga smiled at Oikawa in greeting, although he was met with a dramatic turn of a chin, a deliberate—albeit ridiculous—dismissal. Feeling wryly amused rather than dejected, Suga glanced down at his mobile instead or pursuing conversation, and Oikawa’s subsequent offended huff at being ignored was almost expected.

**thighmaster1: kawaii af~~**

**thighmaster1: babe?? u there?**

_sweetsuga: Sorry, Oikawa just sat down with us and I was trying to apologize, but to no avail._

**thighmaster1: ah,, hes still being an ass then??**

**thighmaster1” and nah it s cool my dad camein with sum late night snakcs anwyuay**

**thighmaster1: sum snacks lol**

**thighmaster1: more like,, sum fuc k**

**thighmaster1: suGAA WANT SUM FUCK**

_sweetsuga: I’d prefer the delectable snacks to the fuck._

**thighmaster1: :’)**

**thighmaster1: i hate u4 crushig my dicks dream s**

Suga’s mobile vibrated twice with an incoming Snapchat, and he glanced at the sender’s name—opening the app once he saw it was Daichi’s username. Somehow, Daichi had roped his father into the picture under the curling length of his arm, his other free hand brandishing a peace sign, the two men smiling as caught off-guard in the middle of a joke.

A sense of jealousy kindled low in Suga’s stomach, but the spark was quickly extinguished after he realised whatever temporary separation he and Daichi faced, it was just that—temporary. Their current trials and tribulations were difficult and time-consuming, but with Suga’s parents’ blessing, he could be the one under Daichi’s arm in the next five months. It was clear their potential happiness would be hard-won, but not impossible.

_sweetsuga: I’m surprised all your faithful dogs aren’t included in that Snapchat._

**thighmsater1: ye of little faith**

**thighmaster1: sonny & cher are legit staring at me from ym door,,**

**thighmsater1:  wanting these thicc ass panckaes**

_sweetsuga: Who doesn’t want thick ass pancakes, though?_

**thighmaster1: weLL**

_sweetsuga: Your ass is not synonymous with that description of breakfast foods, Daichi!_

**thighmaster1: :(((**

**thighmaster1: u know me so well u cna roast me pre-pemeptively**

**thighmsater1: and i l o v e it**

**thighmaster1: *pre-emptively**

_sweetsuga: When do you ever use words with more than two syllables?_

**thighmaster1: because…, akasshi got mildly tipsy las tnight**

**thighmaster1: nd he spits fnacy shit when hes partway t o getting smahsed**

_sweetsuga: Your friends terrify me._

**thighmaster1: im soRRY**

**thighmsater1: U WANNA START T HIS BATTLE??**

_sweetsuga: Excuse me?_

**thighmaster1: REMEMEBR THAT ONE TME**

**thighmaster1: U CALLED OIKAEA??**

_sweetsuga: No, don’t remind me._

**thighmaster1: AND OIAKWA ANSWEED  UR CALL,,**

_sweetsuga: Daichi, please. Stop._

**thighmaster1: IN THE MIDDLE OF SEX WITH IWAIZUMI????????**

Covering his mouth with his hand to stifle his laughter, Suga drew the unfortunate attention of both table’s occupants. Too preoccupied with the crippling memory of his fabled phone call with Oikawa—remembering both Oikawa’s breathless panting greeting, and Iwaizumi’s rough growl to fucking end the call or he’d leave—Suga didn’t notice Noya leaning over his shoulder.

However, he did notice when Noya slumped into Suga, laughter bubbling from him in loud, uncontrolled bursts. “Oikawa, did you really answer Suga’s call while you and Iwaizumi were—” Suga clamped his hand over Noya’s face, he was grateful to keep the knowledge between the three of them rather than the entire study hall.

Noya was quick to pull Suga’s fingers away, excitedly prompting Oikawa, “Well? Did you?”

There was a moment where the intentional blankness of Oikawa’s gaze slid to Suga’s, but the latter was much too near to laughing aloud to be apologetic, and Oikawa’s expression lightened, mouth curling with his usual preening satisfaction.

“Why don’t you ask Iwaizumi? I’m sure he’d be delighted to tell you.”

“No way,” Noya snorted. “I’d prefer to live long enough to ride Asahi’s dick, thanks.”

His curiosity sated, Noya turned back to his laptop, and Oikawa and Suga shared a look of wordless companionship, the one shared between friends.

Then, Suga realised he’d missed Oikawa, even if he was a high-maintenance overachiever, his dedication to his friends and work was often doubted in retrospect of his gaudy confidence and whimsical public image. But, it was another facet of Oikawa’s personality, something that Suga had grown to love despite his faults, something that Suga knew he would mourn the loss of when—if—he moved to Australia.

Before he had the opportunity to speak, to ask if Oikawa wanted to go somewhere after school, Oikawa inclined his head at Suga’s mobile in his hand. “You better answer that,” he suggested. “I think Daichi needs me more than you right now.”

It was an unspoken vow—that even though Oikawa didn’t want Suga to leave, he supported Suga’s choice because it was what he wanted.

**thighmaster1: so i think we can agre eur roaster wins all the awaerds  for trrifyng friends**

**thighmaster1: &my gamer pal wisn the awards for Best GuyTM after slapping the phone outta oiakwas hand #godbles**

**thighmaster1: god my spelling is so shti**

**thighmaster1: liek wo w**

**thighmaster1: if u understoond any of that u won the war my dued**

_sweetsuga: Oh my god, how dare you make me intentionally think about that again?_

_sweetsuga: I had almost forgotten that ever happened. I was almost free._

**thighmaster1: how dare ye refuse 2 tell me u watche d naruto uf cuekr**

_sweetsuga: Okay, I was wrong not to tell you? Right?_

**thighmaster1: -.-**

_sweetsuga: And if I tell you the reason for the first time I cried, will you stop punishing me for it?_

**thighmaster1: -.^**

_sweetsuga: And I’ll promise that this time I’ll snapchat my reaction to watching the first episode of Boruto and most of the show there forth?_

**thighmaster1: ^.^**

_sweetsuga: So, I’m forgiven?_

**thighmaster1: //my longest yeahhhh boiiiiii**

**thighmaster1: i get sO HOT WEHN U TALK ANIME**

Suga smiled, because there was no more positive response from Daichi than a sexual innuendo revolving around anime.

**thighmaster1: so whend u cry??**

**thighmaster1: did zimbabwes manly tears o pain get u good??**

**thighmaster1: leik if u cri everytim e**

**thighmaster1: *zabuza fukc**

_sweetsuga: Actually, it was when the dog almost died at the start of the Land of Waves arc?_

**thighmaster1: ???**

_sweetsuga: Some bullies threw Inari’s dog into the river and it almost drowned._

_sweetsuga: I was traumatized._

**thighmaster1: whatta bout itachi??**

**thighmaster1: whenve ri see him i sob**

**thighmaster1: naH WAIT JIRAIYA GETS ME GOOD,, AND IRUAK~~**

**thighmaster1: NO SHIMARU IN THE AKATSUKI SUPPRESION ARC~~~~~**

**thighmaster1: //oh god imma cry rn fuck shit dman**

Suga felt compelled to answer, to spill all his secrets on each moment in Naruto that had affected on the deep, emotional level Daichi promised it would, but the bell trilled throughout the building, signalling the end to the school day.

_sweetsuga: Sorry, hon. School’s ending and I promised to go hang out with Noya tonight._

_sweetsuga: Talk later._

_sweetsuga:_ *+:꒰◍•ᴗ•◍꒱:+*

**thighmaster1: fine :// break my heart :///**

**thighmaster1: lol nah have a good time i lo ve u <3**

Collecting his sparse few notes and Mac book together, sliding it into his bag, Suga spared a glance in Oikawa’s direction. He was surprised—albeit gladdened—that Oikawa was lingering at the table, expectant but not confident enough to presume Suga would think their relationship was capable of returning to normal.

“Tooru, you want to come with me to Noya’s?” Suga asked, because he loved Oikawa, and if his time with him was limited then he wanted to spend their remaining days together. He tugged the strap of his backpack over his shoulder, waiting.

Oikawa tilted his chin as if he was deliberating how to answer, failing as Suga did to mask his smile. “I’ll come only if I can invite Hajime,” he said, feigning seriousness.

“You think I didn’t already consider him an extension of you?”

Laughing under his breath, Oikawa linked his elbows with Suga, and matched his walking pace to Suga’s too. It was clear then that their relationship wasn’t impervious to occasional arguments or opposing opinions, but it was never liable to falter under the threat of distance or lack of contact, not when Oikawa could forgive Suga in the space of a heartbeat and Suga in the span of a conversation.

And, after knowing—and loving—Daichi, Suga understood that the importance of a relationship wouldn’t wane unless he and Oikawa allowed it to, and so he resolved to remain Oikawa’s best friend for as long as he could. Then, looking aside to catch the familiar glimmer of Oikawa’s smile, Suga knew that Oikawa would do the same too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lads i told u i'd return twice as strong!! believe it!! i was revived through the powers starting boruto, and also the first s2 eps of boku no hero academia and attack on titan made me trust in anime again (highlights include dinosaurs in the aot intro, spicy meatball bakugou doing warm-up stretches in the bnha intro, and dad naruto+shikamaru in the boruto intro).
> 
> and lauren demanded credit for the zimbabwe-zabuza joke. there u go. u got it u long-legged goddess of good makeup & cats.
> 
> also, for curiosity's sake, lauern is elmo and i am jason bateman in this visual representation of our relationship:  
> 


	24. The One Obligatory Serious Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I still have to be at work for a little bit longer, but yeah," Asahi conceded, “I can help.”
> 
> “Right.” Daichi swallowed. “So I need you to talk to Suga for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um sorry for the change in tone for this chap but,, i like to think all relationships can be nine parts fluff and one part realistic doubt and fear so. this was born. don't worry because this was just a momentary lapse in cute gentle fluff~~~ all shall be well.

The thing is, Daichi had always thought of himself as a pretty reliable guy. He was quick to respond to time-sensitive matters, efficient and thorough with his work, supportive of his friend’s plights. He was open with his emotions when his throat tightened and his vision burned with the hot sting of tears, and he swallowed his rage and frustration when it would do naught but worsen the situation.

Daichi was sturdy and respectable, like an old soul lost in a young man’s world, his mind crafted to finding simple solutions for multi-dimensional problems. But he could be careless sometimes, like forgoing a helmet on a motorbike ride or forgetting to tell Suga he’d arrived home safe from a camping trip where service was limited.

And, his feet braced on the court of his high school gym, Daichi could attest to that lofty claim of steadfastness—he was acting as assistant coach to the senior volleyball team and stand-in team member during practise. Step by step, that’s how he worked, following the fluid movements from set to spike to receive.

He was reliable, as he dived for the ball before it could touch the ground.

He was reliable, as he filled the space his teammates couldn’t reach.

He was careless, when he ignored the fast-moving figure in his periphery.

Inertia carried him forward, and in the space of a blink he realised how wrong he’d been to follow his instincts rather than his rationale. And then he was surging forward, weight crashing into his side as the solid mass of an unfamiliar shoulder struck Daichi’s cheek, the impact forcing all the air from his diaphragm. He didn’t remember skidding across the floor, but he did recall feeling incapable of moving, his limbs frozen in incomprehensible shock.

All-consuming blackness engulfed Daichi, and then he was blinking awake, his senses flooded with a distinct tang of unfamiliar surroundings—artificial light, the squeak of metal, sterile air. He glanced aside, recognising the sight of the cardigan stretched over his father’s slumped shoulders amidst the white, clean lines and shapes of the hospital room.

“Dad?”

His father glanced up from the folded cross of his arms at Daichi’s side, and the overwhelming relief which flooded his expression was almost frightening.

“What happened?” He asked, his fingers stumbling across a bandage stretched across the swollen ache of his left cheek.

Daichi listened as it was explained what had happened at volleyball practise, that Coach Ukai had called an ambulance and he’d been taken to the local hospital, how his father had spent most of the day at his bedside waiting in quiet agony. Soon, a nurse visited his room to check his vitals, and a doctor followed an hour later.

As expected, it was nothing serious—concern for him to spend the night was raised, and Daichi agreed in unassuming reluctance.

However, later Daichi realised again he had no reason to be called reliable, because he was careless again. He’d forgotten that a few hours had passed between his last point of contact with Suga until now. Daichi had spoken to him last night, but a large gap of time in which his absence was unexplained didn’t bode well with him. With a panging sense of guilt, he knew he would fret over the same thing if it happened to him, and rushed to ask his father for his phone.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, handing Daichi his old Nokia mobile.

“I gotta talk to Asahi for a sec.”

The call rung thrice before Asahi picked up, his greeting a hesitant politeness.

“Jesus, it’s me.”

“Oh, Daichi, you’re—” His tone adopted a frantic edge. “Are you okay? What did the doctors say? Did you call me because something's wrong and you need to—”

“Dude, it’s fine,” Daichi interjected, only mildly exasperated. “Chill out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Besides a wicked bruise and a lost tooth, I’m golden, pal. But I gotta ask you a favour.”

“I still have to be at work for a little bit longer, but yeah," Asahi conceded, “I can help.”

“Right.” Daichi swallowed. “So I need you to talk to Suga for me.”

Daichi filled Asahi in on the details of his injuries and worries about not alerting Suga of his accident, stopping only once to query where his phone had ended up in the chaos, and then ask his dad if Asahi could break into their house to find the said phone. His father agreed less readily than Asahi, but soon he’d convinced the giant, wet noodle that this was a matter of future romantic endeavours, and he eventually succumbed.

He should’ve felt relieved after organising a somewhat foolproof method of speaking to Suga without directly disobeying the doctor’s orders to remain here for the night, but Daichi’s conscience didn’t ease in the slightest. After the end of visiting hours and a distraught but firm phone call from his mother, Daichi picked at his bland meal, and fell into an uneasy sleep. His fingers clenched and unclenched in an anxious reflex the next morning too, forced to sit through standard check-up tests before rushing to finish release forms, urging his dad to drive him home quickly.

That awful, high-strung sense of the unknown didn’t alleviate until Daichi had patted all his dog’s heads in brief welcome and brushed past them inside, searching the lounge and bedroom for his phone before discovering it resting beside his alarm clock. He sat down, fingers gliding over his screen in frenetic movements, desperate to open his and Suga’s conversation on Tumblr and find the oldest unread messages.

_sweetsuga: Why in the fresh heck did you ever recommend me to watch Cardcaptor Sakura when I have three weeks left of school? I have projects to finish, nights I need to waste procrastinating, and days I need to spend stressing over graduating and being thrust into adulthood._

_sweetsuga: This anime is so pure and good and sweet._

_sweetsuga:_ (＊0＊;)

_sweetsuga: I need to confirm if you did like Yukito, because I feel a strong connection to that ethereal being of gentle kindness. Also, I may harbor a serious crush on Touya, who I’m fairly certain is the anime version of you, sans the thick width of your thighs._

_sweetsuga: Honey, you there? Are you okay?_

_sweetsuga: Sorry, I just realized you had early morning volleyball practice. Talk later._

_sweetsuga:_ ☆ヾ(*´▽｀)ﾉ

There was a large gap between messages, the time-stamp marking the next one as being received late last night.

_sweetsuga: Oikawa wants to know if you’d be willing to join a WhatsApp group chat with us? Us being you, me, Oikawa and Iwaizumi, that is._

_sweetsuga: Wait. I just had a thought. It’d only be rational if we add Asahi and Nishinoya then, and then probably Kuroo and Kenma, but if we include them we may as well extend the invitation towards Bokuto and Akaashi, right? Tanaka too, to supply obscure sports memes when necessary._

_sweetsuga: And Iwaizumi just said he required Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s presence across all forms of social media to reprimand Oikawa when he cannot._

A lapse, half an hour between contact.

_sweetsuga: I’m going to school now, but just talk to me when you can._

_sweetsuga: Love you, Daichi._

There was a linked post to a _Naruto_ gifset one hour later, and then another gap between messages, which prompted Daichi to frown. He and Suga sometimes swapped posts throughout the day, periodic greetings and farewells, anecdotes, stray thoughts and feelings—but never unexplained silence.

He told Suga when he was working at his grandfather’s sheep station, when he was camping, and when he was travelling through remote areas. Because Daichi was self-proclaimed as reliable, he would never do something so thoughtless as to make Suga worry or fret over unopened Snapchats or unanswered messages.

He promised never to hurt Suga, but the damage had been wrought.

_sweetsuga: Where are you? I’m worried._

_sweetsuga: You haven’t replied in over a day and I feel like I did something wrong._

_sweetsuga: I know you have to work and help out coaching, and a social life too, but can you please just tell me you’re okay?_

Daichi frowned, pressing his fingertips to the tense crease between his eyebrows. He reached for his laptop at his bedside and cracked it open, jabbing the power button until his screen flickered to life.

**thighmaster1: Hi it’s Asahi. I’m so sorry for the late reply but Daichi was in an accident and was taken to the hospital and no one really thought to tell you and he didn’t ask me to go send you a message till later I’m just so sorry. I was working all day and didn’t get home until the afternoon and Daichi’s dad was at the hospital so I climbed through the bathroom window to get inside but his phone was flat so I had to charge it. And it was just a mess I’m really sorry.**

_sweetsuga: What kind fo accident was it? Is he okay?_

**thighmaster1: I sometimes help volleyball practise by playing with the team and I just crashed into him very badly and he was knocked out. He’s fine and the doctors just wanted him to stay in the hospital overnight because they were worried he had a concussion or something.**

_sweetsuga: Does he ahve a concussion?_

_sweetsuga: What other kind of injuries did he have?_

**thighmaster1: He’s okay Suga.**

**thighmaster1: Sorry um one side of his face is really swollen and he lost a tooth but he didn’t seem to be too bothered by anything besides missing practise and work and making his dad worry.**

_sweetsuga: The amount of times you say worry has me worried._

**thighmaster1: Oh I’m really sorry I’ll try to stop I don’t mean to make you fret or anything.**

_sweetsuga: It was a joke, Asahi._

**thighmaster1: Haha sorry.**

**thighmaster1: Sorry for saying sorry so much Noya tells me I do that a lot.**

_sweetsuga: It’s fine._

_sweetsuga: Did you say Daichi was going be released from hospital tomorrow morning?_

**thighmaster1: Yeah I forgot if I told you that he said to tell you that. Um wait he wrote it down in my notes on my phone.**

**thighmaster1: Here he said: babe im fine liek if i get back 2 know u were stresing more tha n usual over me imma  sue our lord nd father jesus for kncking me out & making my honeybun worried like I wiLL PUNCH THE HOLY SOIRIT #CONFIRMED.  also ill be home tomoz and imma send u snaps of m y dogs and abs to reaasure u I ams till hot and alive <333**

_sweetsuga: Thanks, Asahi._

**thighmaster1: It’s okay.**

_sweetsuga: I’ll be sure to talk to Daichi tomorrow. Bye._

**thighmaster1: Bye.**

Flinging his phone across the bedspread, Daichi wasted no time in running his fingers over his mouse pad, finding Suga in his Skype contacts. For a fleeting moment of hesitation, Daichi felt terrible for not alerting Suga that he had made it home already, or using alternative, easier methods of contacting him. But—he wanted to talk to Suga, to see him. He wanted nothing less.

After the first two failed calls, Daichi almost contemplated sending Suga a paltry Snapchat and coercing his dad into watching _Die Hard_ with him.

When the third call connected, Daichi was appropriately glad he wasn’t such a fucking pussy when it came down to it.

“Daichi? Daichi, is that you?” Suga’s was peering close into the screen, his expression twisted into ugly concern, so unlike the unaffected calmness Daichi wanted to see.

“Yeah, tis I, your lover.”

He hadn’t dared to predict how Suga would react to seeing him—maybe scream, or reprimand him, something that Daichi felt like he needed to justify his gnawing guilt. However, he did not expect to see the tension and fear erased from Suga’s face at the first sound of Daichi’s voice, his mouth moving with unthinking relief to form a smile.

“Don’t go making dumb jokes, you idiot,” Suga said, happy despite how fragile it seemed. “I’ve been thinking about you all day and I can’t deal with actually remembering how much I care about you before I start crying again.”

“You were crying?”

“Of course!” Anger didn’t seem to spur Suga’s outburst, but Daichi still swallowed, his heartbeat a thrum of apprehensive dread. “My boyfriend was in the hospital and even though I knew you were alright I was scared, Daichi. I still am.” A heavy pause. “Look, I took my makeup off, showered, and got in bed before six o’clock, and you know I’m never remotely ready to sleep until midnight.”

“Baby, you don’t need to—”

“Your mother told me to make you vegemite toast as punishment for being so reckless, but I found some nice homemade jam, so—” Daichi’s dad halted by his bedside, only then realising he had succeeded in interrupting another of his son’s conversations.

“Bloody hell, Dad,” he sighed, “might as well say hi to Suga since you’re here.”

After he had settled the plate of toast on the bedside table, Daichi shifted aside to offer his dad a seat next to him. “Hello, Suga. Sorry for ruining your and Daichi’s conversation again.” He was uncertain, but like his son, his straightforwardness almost made him a tactless man in most serious, multi-layered circumstances, but he was just as polite and respectable too.

“No, it’s alright,” Suga said, quick to lighten his tone. “I almost look forward to it now.”

“That’s certainly a much nicer thing than what my son says to me afterwards.”

Suga’s laughter was painful, not forced, but striving to be kind.

“So, Daichi says you’re going to study here in Australia?”

“Yeah,” Suga replied, “I am. We’re going to be in the city and at the same university, too.”

Daichi hadn’t talked to his father in explicit detail about Suga moving here. He had spoken to his mum about it—his fear that Suga would come to resent him for influencing him to leave his friends and family, or the lingering doubt that their relationship wouldn’t thrive as it did online. Daichi knew it was a nonsensical, baseless fear, and so did his mum, but he hadn’t had the time to ask his dad.

Instead, he simply asked, “Did Daichi tell you I moved to Australia for his mother?”

“No, not in such plain terms.” Shaking his head, Suga offered a tremulous smile—it was an invitation to continue.

“I don’t want to bore you and my son with the details—”

“I’ll tell him about your beautiful first meeting later, Dad,” Daichi interjected, because he liked the story. He loved that his parents were a living testament to love being transcendent, existing between those who dared to care for each other, regardless of language, culture or nationality.

“Well,” his father started, “all I wanted to say was that I decided to leave the life I had for a person I had only just begun to love, but even now I know it was still the best decision I could’ve made.”

Daichi’s lips curled into a smile, faint but intimate. His gaze flickered upwards, catching Suga’s for a moment of complete, undaunted understanding, and a smaller measure of gratitude.

“You’re a bigger, sappier romantic than Mum, you know?” Daichi teased, earning a grin and his father’s fingers ruffling the short hair over his scalp. The gesture was so familiar and comforting it reminded him of his childhood, of thinking his dad was the tallest, bravest man in the world.

“I’m going to check on the dogs, okay?” His father slipped off the bed, wiping his hands along his pant legs in his usual studious perfectionism. “Suga, make sure Daichi eats his toast. Bye!”

After the door clicked shut, Daichi pulled his laptop closer, needing to look at Suga for a second. All he craved was an instant in which he didn’t need to think or feel, just to look at his boyfriend without knowing he was missing something as integral as physical presence.

“Did you really cry?” Daichi blurted out later, because he was stupid, so fucking stupid. It was clear that Suga’s expression was flushed with emotion, the whites of his eyes veined with red and his lashes wet with unshed tears. He couldn’t call himself reliable now—never again.

“I was really worried, Daichi.”

“I know, and I’m really sorry ‘bout scaring you, babe—”

“No, it’s not that,” Suga interrupted, his voice shaking. “But you know that feeling you get sometimes, that raw ache in your chest when you realise we can’t touch or talk to each other easily? And you get that awful, painful sense of loss?”

Daichi swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. All the time.”

“I hate feeling like that, Daichi.” It was a rushed breath of confession, desperate and honest. “I don’t want to ever want to find out you were in an accident a few hours after it happened, I don’t want to stare down at my phone and not know you’re hurt because our lives aren’t connected beyond a fucking Tumblr messaging system.”

“Suga, you don’t need to—” Daichi halted, because he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have the slightest inkling to what words he could use to assure Suga that he wouldn’t need to worry.

“The day after you left I told my parents I’d study abroad in Australia because I wanted to. And they agreed to it because it was my choice, and if something happened and we weren’t together or I wasn’t happy, then I’d come home. I’d admit to it being mistake and I’d get on with my life.”

“Suga, I’m—You—” There were tears forming in Daichi’s eyes, there were tears streaking hot, wet lines over his cheeks, dripping off his chin. And it was stupid, because this wasn’t even an argument, this was a reality Daichi had already accepted.

“But I’m not going to go back to America because I know I’ll never need anything more than what you’ll give me. Even just waking up to seeing messages from you, whether it’s one or fifteen or a hundred, is enough to make me content in the fact that you do love me.”

“Koushi,” Daichi heaved, because it was a herculean effort to speak without feeling like he was breaking. His chest had been cleaved in half months ago, the moment he’d sent the wrong message, the moment he saw Suga’s face for the first time, and heard his voice and recognised his writing style and didn’t need to imagine what he felt like to hold. “Koushi,” he said again, a plea.

“And I know you love me, as much as I love you, but I want to _be_ with you, Daichi.”

“Ditto.” It was stupid again—because that was the first thing he’d said to Suga telling Daichi he loved him. And he couldn’t do that anymore, he couldn’t flash Suga a dangerous kind of grin and laugh when he really should say—

“I really wanted to figure out a way for us to be together, Koushi. Before I met you, but afterwards I knew I wouldn’t ever find anyone better than you, but you’d beat me to the punchline.” He looked up—how long he’d been looking away eluded Daichi—and saw Suga was crying too. “I’m really glad you’re gonna be moving to Australia. I’m glad I’ll be able to actually surprise you and take you out for a proper date or do something spontaneous and irresponsible with you. I’m just… really happy I get to have a future with you.”

Suga’s sudden inhale was a wet stutter, and the noise made Daichi want to reach out in a futile attempt to soothe him. “Honey, I’m going to straight up start sobbing if you keep talking like that,” he said through a watery smile, fingers swiping across his cheek.

Daichi pressed a broad hand over his chest in mock offense. “What happened to wanting my endless love and support?”

“I have that already,” Suga explained, “I just really want to hug you right now. I mean, I’ve passed my usual slightly excessive need for physical affection to Oikawa-level touch starvation.”

Arching an eyebrow, Daichi asked, “Do you know that I’m the only person besides Bokuto who Akaashi will let hug him? Even Kuroo uses two arms to hug me and Kuroo only ever uses one arm to uphold his image. I’m, like, top tier hugging material. Next level shit.”

“I think when we met again I’m going to run at you, jump in your arms, wrap my legs around you—do the whole dramatic airport reunion scene.”

“I’m going to hire someone to play _Careless Whisper_ softly in the background.”

“I’ve already picked out my outfit.”

“I’m going to wear my Gai-sensei cosplay.”

“I’ll wear thigh-high stockings then.”

Daichi’s head tipped back, his laughter a hearty boom. Soon Suga was laughing too, because it served to ease the weight that threatened to sink his heart in an ocean of sadness and doubt. And although he never entertained such doomed thoughts, Daichi didn’t want to make Suga feel like that, so he found a reason to thrive when they could’ve wallowed.

Their laughter was a promise—if we can survive this now, we can surely survive what remained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buckle in B O Y Z because we only have 3 chapters left (not including a smutty epilogue since i still gotta figure out where to put it lol). and buckle me in too because i may have cried writing this so imagine me during the last chapter :')
> 
> also whats the general feelings towards a short iwaoi sequel ft. background daisuga for message sent??? yay or nay?


	25. The Grand King Of Cockblocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a deliberate, how Suga turned his chin to look at the incoming video of Daichi, the nervous, excited swallow evident in the slight gulp of his breath. There was an unspoken question underlining Suga’s movement, one that could be voiced aloud if Daichi gave some sort of action to proceed—a nod, a word, a flicker of his tongue over his lips.

_sweetsuga: Daichi?_

_sweetsuga: I think someone sent me a wrong package in the mail, because 1) the return address is to Australia, and I only really know one person living there, and 2) the first thing I see when I open it up is a birthday card, which is weird since my birthday isn’t for another month, and 3) my parents said they received it during my senior trip so it’s been sitting here for the one week you knew I wouldn’t even be home._

**thighmaster1: excuUsE me Binch**

**thighmaster1: i poured my heart & soul into dat pakcaeg u ass**

**thighmaster1: nd its just a prelude to ur real rpesent???**

**thighmaster1: liek i bought eveyrthng on impulse and mailed it in adleaide whe n o went to see kuroo??? so I wanted to spurrpise u??????**

**thighmaster1: *surprise fuck**

_sweetsuga: Well…_

**thighmaster1: i cant beleive i gotta wake up to mw bae attacking mef or being nice wtf**

**thighmaster1: I lovED U ANAKIIN**

**thighmaster1: ND U BETRARYED MEMEMEEEEEEEEEEE**

_sweetsuga: I was going to say it was a really thoughtful gift, Daichi._

**thighmaster1: FUCK U ASASUKE**

_sweetsuga: Oh no._

**thighmaster1: ORE AM FUCKING SICK OF UR FUCKING ATTIDTUE**

**thighmaster1: ..U ARE MY NAKAMAAAAAAAAA**

**thighmaster1: AND NOTHING WIKL EVER  C HANGE THAT,, U FUCKNG BITCh**

_sweetsuga: I see your loyalties are still firmly embedded in Naruto’s ass._

**thighmaster1: well,, id be all u p in ur ass if u loved &appreciated em**

**thighmaster1: but alas~~~ u spurn me affections**

_sweetsuga: Honey, you do realize I was going to suggest that me and my beautiful, kind boyfriend Skype so I can open my package with him there, and then maybe watch the latest Boruto episode with him afterwards?_

_sweetsuga: Since I do very much adore my boyfriend._

_sweetsuga: Maybe you know him? Tall, broad, voice thicker than molasses and twice as rich? Thighs made to sit on? Biceps crafted to be bitten?_

**thighmaster1: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

_sweetsuga sent a photo_

**thighmaster1: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)!!!**

**thighmaster1: did u literlaly go take a pic of ur ass in ///titght pants// in a full lgenth mirror 2 appeese me??**

_sweetsuga sent a photo_

**thighmaster1: ayeyeyeyyeee legs!!!**

**thighmaster1: u could really saym,,**

**thighmaster1: ia m the~~~ master of ur thighs**

_sweetsuga: True._

_sweetsuga: The only person I want in the general vicinity of the soft, supple skin of my thighs is you._

_sweetsuga:_ {｡^◕‿◕^｡}

**thighmaster1: huh #gay**

**thighmaster1: *whsipers* i love it**

_sweetsuga: Can we continue this dramatic unwrapping of my package now? Because I’m actually quite interested in what else you got me._

**thighmaster1: ;)))**

_sweetsuga: Judging by that winky face, I hope none of it is so unsavory that I have to hide it from my parents, you heathen._

**thighmaster1: ;P**

**thighmaster1: alright bby im getig my laptop out lets skype**

Suga lowered onto his bed, crossing his legs as he pulled his Macbook into his lap and discarding his mobile. He waited for a few impatient minutes, idly drifting through his Tumblr dash and Instagram posts, before Daichi arrived online.

He clicked video call, pleased to notice how quickly Daichi accepted.

There was a rustle of sound and movement, and Suga blinked at the incoming video of the black span of a computer keyboard, before Daichi’s hand appeared. With a decisive movement, he angled the screen upwards, enabling Suga to see above the flannel waist of his pyjama pants. Daichi was in his bathroom, the golden shafts of light streaming through the shuttered window behind him, rumpled and warm with a sleep he had barely woken from.

“Hi,” Suga said, quietly, unassumingly mesmerised.

Daichi yawned, waving off his exhaustion before replying with, “Hey, babe.” He scratched his stomach, fingernails catching on the grey material of his shirt and pulling it high to reveal a sliver of tanned skin—and, as stupid as it was, Suga’s breath caught.

“How are you?” Daichi reached off-screen to collect a toothbrush.

“Great, how about you?”

“Better now,” Suga admitted, and Daichi raised his eyebrow in question, moving to ask a question that Suga felt like he would answer through red-faced embarrassment, heat coiling low in his stomach.

However, as Walt had no sense of timing, he decided _then_ was an appropriate time to jump up beside Suga on the bed, wandering close enough to brush his face alongside Suga’s bent knee.

“Oh, Walt!” Oblivious to Suga’s inner turmoil, Daichi grinned, waving his fingers at a disinterested cat through the incoming video. “I haven’t seen him in a while? How’s the prettiest cat in the world doing?”

“He’s fine, just being my special boy,” Suga proclaimed, pressing butterfly kisses to Walt’s head in quick succession—one two, three. He rested the side of his cheek on Walt’s head, attempting to distract himself from the tight fit of Daichi’s shirt, or the shift of his muscles with each movement.

“Then what does that make me?” Daichi’s voice had reached an unnatural high with faux offense.

“My dick appointment.”

The loud burst of Daichi’s laughter shocked Suga, and he watched in bewildered amusement as Daichi slammed his palm onto the countertop, his full-bodied laughter turning to tired heaves of air. “Fucking stop that snarky ass flirting,” he warned, pointing the white froth of his toothbrush head in Suga’s direction, “or I’m gonna _bust a nut_.”

“Gross.”

“You love it, you shitkunckle.” Straightening, Daichi flicked his wrist in a casual gesture for Suga to continue. “Now get on with the show. I wanna see your reaction to what I got.”

The mysticism of Daichi’s amassed gifts were unveiled—a sealed packet of Australian Afternoon tea, Tim Tams, the first original Naruto collection, an opal pendant dangling from a silver chain, three makeup palettes, a Lush body wash, and a strip of photo booth pictures where Daichi and Kuroo were pulling their shirts high enough to reveal a nipple at several different angles.

“Aw,” Suga cooed, holding one of his palettes up so Daichi could see, “you remembered what kind of colours I wanted?”

“Babe, please. You think I ain’t gonna treat you right?”

“Well, I very much appreciate your level of attentiveness,” Suga said, unable to control the wide spread of his smile. “And may I bring your attention to my makeup today, as you can see my eyeshadow was blended by God himself.” He leaned forward as his eyelids fluttered to a delicate close, revealing the brush of luminous gold over his skin.

“You know, normally I’ll admit your makeup is like, pretty standard shit, but—”

“How dare—”

“I said ‘but’, Suga!” Daichi countered, quick to placate Suga. “Hear me out, okay?” He waited for Suga to nod, his gaze narrowed. “ _But_ , I meant to say today that your eyeshadow shit looks good today, like hella nice. Something only a mere mortal could achieve through the power granted by the overlords of cosmetics or whatever.”

“Oh.” The hard line of Suga’s mouth softened, his cheeks flushed a flattered pink.

“And you showed me how nice your ass and legs looked before in those black pants you were wearing, so my blood’s still running a little hot and I can’t contain my raging feelings for you.”

Suga snorted. “More like raging boner.”

“Well… You’re not wrong.”

It was a deliberate, how Suga turned his chin to look at the incoming video of Daichi, the nervous, excited swallow evident in the slight gulp of his breath. There was an unspoken question underlining Suga’s movement, one that could be voiced aloud if Daichi gave some sort of action to proceed—a nod, a word, a flicker of his tongue over his lips.

“Suga, I knew you said you wanted to wait and everything, but this…” Daichi trailed off, running his hand across the back of the pricked heat of his neck.

“This doesn’t really count, does it?” Suga sounded breathless.

“Not really, hey? Um—If you wanted, we could…”

The sudden chime of an incoming FaceTime call started both Suga and Daichi, their nervous embarrassment running to momentary shock. Daichi glanced at the darkened screen of his mobile on his bathroom countertop before watching Suga stare down at his mobile, his mouth twisted with a badly veiled disappointment—it was so obvious Daichi surmised Suga didn’t even know his emotions were showing so plainly.

“It’s Oikawa.”

A growl caught in Daichi’s throat, and Suga sympathised with the noise of disgruntled defeat.

“I’ll call him later,” Suga said, turning his mobile screen-down on his thigh.

“Really?” He didn’t know if he was more surprised that Suga could so easily and blatantly ignore Oikawa, or at the implications of _why_ he was committed to the idea of blowing off his best friend.

Suga opened his mouth to speak, but his phone blared to life again, the call tone cheery despite the mood it had so swiftly dampened. With a sigh, his fingers pressed onto the illuminated green button.

“I’m Skyping Daichi right now,” Suga said, satisfied that his excuse was a suitable justification for ignoring Oikawa the first time he attempted to bridge contact. However, Oikawa could withstand of a great deal of injustice—physical injury, inner turmoil, needless mocking of his pride—but he refused to be dealt such a cruel hand as being ignored.

“Hajime refuses to hug me.”

“Do you really want me to drive over and offer my hugging services at this specific point in time?” Suga asked, indulging Oikawa only after seeing how Daichi’s mouth twisted into a grin, motioning for Suga to continue.

“Maybe.” Oikawa’s exhale was wistful, deluded. “I might need to start a schedule, roster who can hug me and when—”

“You cried the last time I hugged you because Iwaizumi had left school to go to a doctor’s appointment and, _apparently_ , I didn’t meet the requirements of physical contact you would usually receive from your brawny counterpart.” It was an understandable reaction, as it was edging closer to graduation and emotions were high-strung, fickle things, but the memory carried Oikawa’s usual flair for the dramatics.

“That may be so, but—“

“I barely leave for an hour and you start crying?” Suga recognised the gruff, off-screen voice as Iwaizumi’s. “Fuck, how much attention do you need?”

“All of it,” Oikawa huffed.

Suga repressed a sudden, uninhibited laugh which threatened to burst from him, endeared by the familiar ludicrously of his best friend’s absurd demands. Grateful for Daichi’s intentional, polite silence, Suga spared a moment to watch Oikawa leaning backwards to reveal that he and Iwaizumi were sharing a much more intimate circle of space than first anticipated. It was Suga’s own fault for overlooking the direct impacts of his impending move to Australia, and Oikawa’s subsequent need to seek comfort from being in constant touch with Iwaizumi.

From his limited perception of their position, Suga could discern that Oikawa had been sitting between Iwaizumi’s raised legs, the latter presumably stretched across the bed behind Oikawa. With a sigh that resembled the dramatic antics of an old-time Southern socialite, Oikawa proceeding to rest his knee against Iwaizumi’s knee, his mouth forming an upset pout—a common fixture of Oikawa’s features of late, one Suga disapproved of the more he saw it.

“Hug me, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whined. “I’m despondent.”

Iwaizumi’s answer was whip-fast, it’s speed twice as brutal as its cool rejection. “No.”

“If you hug me I’ll do that thing where—”

“Tooru, keep it PG-rated, please,” Suga begged, holding a hand up like a visible warning to stop. “You promised not to even approach the subject of sex regarding the last… _incident_.”

Noticing Suga’s contorted expression of distaste, Daichi cupped his hands over his mouth and hollered, “Iwaizumi, buddy! Pal! For the sake of my pretty ass boyfriend’s sanity, hug your own goddamn boyfriend.”

There was a rustle of movement, and then Iwaizumi’s face was appearing close to Oikawa’s, chin hooked over his shoulder with a casual intimacy that Suga still longed for.

“Do I really have to hug him?” Iwaizumi asked, ignoring Oikawa’s offended scoff. Smiling, Suga pulled his Macbook closer to ensure a respectable amount of reasonable comprehension between their ill-advised three-way method of communication.

“My dude,” Daichi said, as if addressing a serious question, “you gotta realise that Oikawa is your partner in both dicks _and_ romance, alright? Can’t have one without the other.”

Iwaizumi made a noise of unconvinced consideration, and for a moment Suga believed he wouldn’t agree to such a simple claim as touch, but his doubts surrounding their relationship were again proved the be baseless. And even if Iwaizumi did treat Oikawa’s theatrics with a begrudging tolerance, but the fact remained that he did love Oikawa, that he understood him at a deep, visceral level that was unknown to Suga.

Because, in the space of a stuttered breath of surprise, Iwaizumi’s arms were wrapping around Oikawa’s chest, his head turning to his cheek, the corner of his mouth, his neck. Oikawa laughed outright at the sudden press of Iwaizumi’s lips to his vulnerable neck, so shocked at the sudden thrill of sensation that he dropped his mobile into his lap, greeting Suga to a view of the pale length of Oikawa’s thigh.

“That sounds like fucking kissing, you perverts!” Daichi hollered, loud enough to startle a surprised cry from the muffled audio of Oikawa’s call.

“We were reconciling, you ass,” Oikawa retorted, righting his camera so Suga was greeted to the view of Oikawa’s elastic grins, he slight uptick of Iwaizumi’s mouth close by. One of Iwaizumi’s arms looped around Oikawa’s shoulder, fingers dangling over his chest—fingers which Oikawa soon threaded with his own.

“Reconciling from what? Two seconds were Iwaizumi wasn’t in the same room as you?”

Oikawa’s lips curled downwards into a distasteful frown.

“Pretty much, Sawamura,” Iwaizumi answered in lieu of Oikawa’s silence, unperturbed by how the lack of sharing constant personal space between them wasn’t a normal occurrence.

“Hey, buddy?” Daichi’s voice was casual, matching Iwaizumi’s nonchalance.

“Yeah?”

“Can you go fuck your boyfriend so I can talk to mine?”

A pause of consideration, long enough for Oikawa to start to make a noise of protest but too short for him to pre-emptively thwart Iwaizumi’s decisive reach forward to end the call, and his attempts proved successful in the next two seconds as the screen dimmed.

“So…” Daichi trailed off, and the meandering intent of his sentence invoked Suga’s memory of what they’d been talking about before Oikawa had interrupted them.

Suga coughed, glancing downwards as his skin flushed hot with a brief flash of arousal, fingers clenching his bedspread. He focused on the in-and-out motions of breathing for a few seconds before hardening his resolve, forcing his mouth open to speak.

“You wanna watch _Boruto_ now?” Daichi said, as if he hadn’t intended to casually proposition Suga a few seconds earlier—or that maybe Suga had misunderstood, and the opportunity had already passed.

However much longer Suga needed to wait for these moments of singular importance—where he could follow his base, instinctual needs to touch Daichi when he wanted—he decided it would be worthwhile. If he felt a measure of the happiness he did now when he was with Daichi again, then it would have to be rewarding.

It had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, i have now decided that there is two chapters of message sent remaining /AND/ the smutty epilogue, so technically now u got three chapters left. soz for playing with ur achy-breaky hearts but,,, just know that the smut is some Good Shit™.
> 
> ((p.s. i didn't mean to write so much iwaoi i swear)).


	26. A McFreakin' Minute To Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **thighmaster1: okay now im g onna go get ur maccas order nd eat it~~**
> 
> **thighmaster1: btu ill really be thinking of eatingn u~~~~~~~**
> 
> _sweetsuga: Stop sexting me in Asahi’s immediate proximity. He is pure and innocent of your crimes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternatively titled: maccas ride or die.

“Jesus, is that you?”

Asahi hummed in a noncommittal reply.

Gazing across the night-darkened McDonalds parking lot, a foot kicked over the edge of his hanging door, Daichi frowned around the limp shape of a French fry in his mouth.

“Daichi?”

“Did you and Noya ever get past first base?”

Beside him, Asahi choked around the straw of his Coke. “Wh—What?”

“Did you have a fourth encounter of the dick kind?”

“Please, no—Daichi—”

“Did Noya pay worship to the almighty penis—”

“Stop it!” Asahi slapped his palm across Daichi’s forearm, jostling his grip around his fries.

Daichi gasped in an exaggeration of sheer outrage, clutching his precious cargo to his chest. “You’re playing a dangerous game, trying to knock my food outta my hand like we’re some kind of savage animals here.”

“At least,” he stopped, started again, “give me warning next time you ask about mine and Noya’s…”

“Sexcapades?”

Under the cover of sporadic streetlight, Asahi’s fluster was adequately disguised. “We’re in a  _ restaurant _ , Daichi,” he whispered. “I think those girls across the street heard you.”

“We’re in the parking lot of a fast food restaurant at fucking midnight, you ass.” Daichi laughed, fighting to wrestle Asahi’s drink from him long enough to take a stolen sip. Wiping his mouth, he continued, “We’re in the kind of place where the fabric of reality fades, bitch, so anything goes.”

Asahi sighed, resigned to his fate after recognising he had accepted Daichi’s request to join him here, and Maccas runs were an Australian ritual, passed down from generation to generation in an expression of eternal friendship, the highest form of trust stemming from late-night jaunts to the illuminated beacon of sub-standard burgers and broken frappe machines.

“Anything goes?” Asahi was reluctant to ask.

“Heck yeah. So,” Daichi said, “you gonna tell me if you and Noya ever hooked up then?”

“Um… We kinda did. When he was in Australia. And then—” Running a hand across the back of his neck, Asahi was flustered, incapable of finding the correct words. “We’re waiting now. Until he gets here and stuff.”

“Fuck yeah.” Daichi held his hand out for a high five, and was delighted that Asahi didn’t actually leave him hanging in celebration of his sexual endeavours.

A low snort, a considering pause. “Did you… Why were you asking?”

“I wanted to know if fooling around, like, changed anything?”

“N-not really. It was pretty much the same thing except—Um. I know I’ve seen him naked now, so… it’s easier to—to imagine things.”

“Asahi, you sly dog!” Slapping a hand across his chest, Daichi feigned a scandalised expression.

“You asked me!” Asahi argued desperately, sounding like he was ready to cry from embarrassment.

Daichi tipped his chin backwards, feeling weak laughter reverberate through his bones. He closed his eyes for a moment, his mind and vision wiped blank save for dim streetlight and the distant rush of traffic.

He was grateful that Asahi didn’t ask, because Daichi was sure he was worried. He wasn’t built to be quiet, or morose, and Asahi knew him long enough for that to mean he was in pensive, serious thought about a matter he considered to be imperative. And, lately, that meant it was about Suga.

“I was just worried that…” Daichi scraped a fingernail along his teeth, distracting himself for a moment before continuing, “Maybe it would’ve been different if we’d fucked. That it’d be easier to know that’d we’d be together till the end or whatever, that I wouldn’t get so fed up with having to wait or compromise for it half the damn time.”

“Daichi—”

“Suga said he might have to come down in December rather than, like, around his birthday like we planned.” The information was delivered with a flat nonchalance that was so unlike Daichi’s usual wild enthusiasm.

“Oh, um—”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Daichi was quick to placate Asahi before his anxiety skyrocketed. “Shit like this happens,” he said. “And it’d be difficult for anyone to leave their home country and move out here for the sake of one person.”

“Daichi, that’s not—” Asahi stuttered, attempted to regain his bearings. “Suga wants to be with you, okay? He loves you.”

“I know.”

“Then what’s the harm with a couple more months of waiting?”

“Fucking hell, mate. Stop being so rational,” Daichi said in good humour. “I’m supposed to be your guiding light here, alright?”

“Well, I am Jesus, so—” Halting, Asahi leaned forward so he could better see Daichi’s face. The worried line of his mouth eased, hanging open. “Are you crying?”

“Fuck off.” Using the excuse of dislodging Asahi’s hand from his shoulder, Daichi’s blurred gaze slid sidewards to focus on the base of one of the palm trees lining the drive-thru. “You know I basically just completed the _Final Fantasy_ _XV_ campaign, like I’m a fucking mess, okay?”

“You remember last month? When you called me over to you house so you wouldn’t have to finish the game alone?”

“I did not,” Daichi scoffed.

“You don’t need month to get over a game, Daichi. A week maybe, but not longer.” A deliberate pause, a collection of his composure to find the right words to ask, “What else is bothering you?”

Managing to turn in his seat—which attested to Asahi’s dedication to make himself as small as possible in all situations—Asahi faced Daichi with the singular intention to talk like civil, mature people. Which was, you know,  _ stupid _ , but Daichi failed to find a believable enough reason to rebuff his best friend’s attempts to be a functioning adult.

“I just really love Suga, okay?” Daichi said, and the moment the thought formed in his mind, and passed the seam of lips, he wondered how he’d hadn’t been crying before. “This isn’t a big deal too, like it’s not even in the same realm as actual real-world problems, but I miss him. And I don’t care anymore, I just really fucking goddamn want this whole waiting part to be over.”

In lieu of answering—because Asahi had never good with words, always too caught up in his emotions—Asahi wound his hand over Daichi’s shoulder in silent comfort.

Reaching backwards, Daichi patted his hand obligingly. “You know, I never actually realised you were in love with me, Asahi. But now you’re off touching me and I don’t think I can be what you want me to be—”

“Oh my God, go annoy your boyfriend.”

“Challenge accepted.”

It was a brief, casual disregard of the earlier vulnerability of their conversation, but Daichi had never known Asahi to force him to act to solve his problems. Mainly because Daichi always managed to find a solution to any pressing issue in less than half a day, but when it boiled down to Suga, the usual solution was talking to him. Although honest communication seemed to be a wild concept in the modern era, it certainly was the strongest factor in all relationships, and Daichi was just glad he’d been talking to Suga in complete honesty and open-mindedness since they’d met.

**thighmaster1: oaky bby m at maccas rn**

**thighmaster1: & jesus-san tol d me to be i touch with ym feelings**

**thighmaster1: and idk like im in a v tender,, v sweet mood todayy**

**thighmaster1: & ** **i also jsut wanted2 say i love you a lot a nd i hope ur day today is  erlaly super great and ur productive nd that ur vv happy and content all day**

**thighmaster1: also i hoep ur makeup is good and walt doenst attack u and all is well <33**

_ sweetsuga: Are you telling me this because you’re currently intoxicated? _

**thighmaster1: BINC H!!!!**

**thighmaster1: ACACEPT MY LOVE  !!!11!**

**thighmaster1: and im literaly the most sober person ehere**

_ sweetsuga: How am I supposed to believe that coming from the beautiful mouth of a beautiful man who tells me that Maccas runs are his perfect end to a night at the sports bar? _

Daichi rolled his eyes, sparing a moment to open Snapchat and raise his phone above his head. He elbowed Asahi in the side in the same instant he spread his fingers wide into a peace sign, catching Asahi halfway through an inelegant turn with his mouth agape and Daichi in some kitschy selfie pose.

After a blink of slow realisation, Asahi made a desperate grab for Daichi’s phone. “Delete it!”

Gleeful laughter filled the car as Daichi managed to dodge Asahi’s advances, sending the Snapchat to Suga with a caption that read— _my_ _aussie jesus turns wine to water lol_. He had no time nor the skill to check his most likely horrendous spelling, but Daichi was satisfied in the knowledge he had successfully embarrassed his best friend and affirmed that he was, in fact, sober as fuck.

“I sent it, loser,” Daichi said, holding the offending phone out to Asahi.

He cast a quick glance over the screen, frowning. “I hope when Suga tells you to stop harassing me when he gets here.” Asahi sighed, fingers massaging the crease between his eyebrows.

“You limp noodle.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, bae.”

_ sweetsuga: You think a barely coherent biblical reference will save you now? _

_ sweetsuga: Also stop harassing Asahi. _

Daichi snorted.

**thighmaster1: u dont control em**

**thighmaster1: i barely ocntorl myself**

_ sweetsuga: Interesting observation to have now, nearly two decades later. _

**thighmaster1: jsuT LET M E LOVE U~~~~~~~~~~~~!!!!!!!!**

_ sweetsuga: Okay, I relent. You got me. _

_ sweetsuga: I am very grateful that my boyfriend wants to love and support me. _

_ sweetsuga: And you promised to abstain from Maccas runs until I was in Australia how dare you so cruelly cast aside your promises for some cheap thrill? _

**thighmaster1: babe pls**

**thighmaster1: this iis me last supper**

**thighmaster1: from now on im only gonnna eat schniittuy &chips form teh servo**

_ sweetsuga: In fairly comprehensible Australian-English, please. Not this outlandish, incoherent, off-the-cuff Outbéck dialect. _

**thighmaster1: //lookat all dem adjectivrs mmmmmm i nut**

**thighmaster1: alrighto so i mean t~~~~**

**thighmaster1: ill live on a deit of beef schnitzel nd chips packs u cna buy the servic3 station??**

**thighmaster1:  gas staiton idk??**

_ sweetsuga: Tragic. _

**thighmaster1: I ahte u(i love u)**

**thighmaster1: also what sur fav flavour o f milkshake ??**

**thighmaster1: & burger??**

_ sweetsuga: Why are you asking? _

**thighmaster1: so,, i can memoise it and order it for u without needin 2 ask??**

**thighmaster1: goota treat my boo right <333**

_swe_ _etsuga:_ **(◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*。**

_ sweetsuga: Okay, I do very much enjoy anything vanilla, like milkshakes or lattes or desserts. _

**thighmaster1: hoepfully not thiis vanilla dick tho**

_ sweetsuga: Get out. _

**thighmaster1: ill enver get outta ur swet sweet ass**

**thighmaster1:** **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)(∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━☆ﾟ**

_ sweetsuga: Back to the subject at hand, please? _

**thighmaster1: akright aright~~ go forth**

_ sweetsuga: So, I normally would like vanilla milkshakes, sometimes lemonade. _

**thighmaster1: lol sprite yes**

_ sweetsuga: A perfect blend of sugar, water, and lemon that isn’t a carbonated monstrosity, yes. _

_ sweetsuga: Sometimes I do enjoy strawberry, too. _

_ sweetsuga: In regard to burgers I’m pretty lenient, although I rarely enjoy beef patties, so chicken is usually my favorite kind of meat. _

**thighmaster1: how about,, my meat?? isnt tha tur fav??**

_ sweetsuga: if you make a joke about that I will file for divorce. _

_ sweetsuga: Okay, divorced. Separated. Abandoned. _

**thighmaster1: what  about my meATBALLSLS**

**thighmaster1: MY DELISCIUOS BUNS**

**thighmaster1: DRIPPING WITH SWEET DELECTBALE WWHITE NECTAR**

_ sweetsuga: Daichi Sawamura! Shut the hell your mouth! _

**thighmaster1: i mean t mayo not cum u chheky bastard ;))**

_ sweetsuga: I detest mayonnaise. _

_ sweetsuga: But Kenma’s head is resting on my shoulder right now, so he could just turn his chin and read the very filth you’re spouting. Which would, you know, taint his pure soul. _

**thighmaster1: hell is empTHY & ALL THE DEVILS ARE HERHE**

_ sweetsuga: Did you just perfectly quote Shakespeare to me? _

**thighmaster1: yeet yoot ;))**

Halfway through another sarcastic comment, Suga replied. His gaze flickering to Suga’s icon in a moment of hesitant, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, Daichi resolved to have the conversation he’d skirted around initiating for the past few minutes.

_ sweetsuga: Daichi? _

**thighmaster1: yeah ???**

_ sweetsuga: I know that you’re… angry and frustrated that our immediate future hasn’t worked out as smoothly as we wanted, but I still might be able to move down when we planned, Daichi. _

_ sweetsuga: I’ve graduated, I’ve turned eighteen, I’ve been accepted into the same college as you. My parents and friends both like you immensely and are happy that I’m going to study in a country with twenty-one of the twenty-five most venomous snakes in the world but all ten of the most admirable traits in a (read: my) boyfriend. _

_ sweetsuga: it’s just a few months, it’s nothing. It’s inconsequential to what I feel for you. _

The impatience settled in Daichi;s bloodstream, burned throughout the path of his veins—made him so anxious and excited at the prospect of finally,  _ finally _ , seeing Suga again. He wanted to tell Suga everything he would do when they met again, the kisses and words and promises melding together into such a large spill of want it was near impossible to separate the feeling from his conscious body.

It was a hopeless kind of want, to love someone you couldn’t touch.

**thighmaster1: ur amazing,, u k now that right??**

**thighmaster1: leik hands down the best part about amurica ?**

_ sweetsuga:  _ (✿ꈍ。 ꈍ✿)

_ sweetsuga: I’ve heard similar things to that effect, but nothing quite as sweet. _

**thighmaster1: I wish I had the dediciation to like,, make a list of all the thing si lveo about u and tell them to each day for the rest of our lives**

**thighmaster1: btu alas~~ im lazy**

_ sweetsuga: You know else was lazy but had the same emotional impact on me as you do? _

**thighmaster1: idk eknma??**

_ sweetsuga: Shikamaru Nara. _

**thighmaster1: ayyeeeeeeeeeeee mym boiiiii**

**thighmaster1: damn I miss naruto**

**thighmaster1: like borutos cool and all but,,**

**thighmaster1: sasuke just stiopped bein a dick and startded being the coolest charater e ver and now hes //gone//**

**thighmaster1: what a adrag..,.**

_ sweetsuga: What a drag… _

**thighmaster1: ayeeeEEEEE**

**thighmaster1: ur something eslse, honeybuns <33**

_ sweetsuga:  _ (*゜▽゜ノノ゛☆

**thighmaster1: okay now im g onna go get ur maccas order nd eat it~~**

**thighmaster1: btu ill really be thinking of eatingn u~~~~~~~**

_ sweetsuga: Stop sexting me in Asahi’s immediate proximity. He is pure and innocent of your crimes. _

**thighmaster1: teh lord visited me once,, a nd told me my dick was holy**

**thighmaster1: i only wish 2 sharethat gift w/my sweet suga**

_ sweetsuga: I’m so torn between a strange attraction and visceral revulsion to that mental image. _

**thighmaster1: im so torn betweeb choosing to rip ur pants off and go straight for ur balls OR succing kisses into ur neck when we met again**

_ sweetsuga: I’ll lock myself into a chastity belt if you keep speaking like that! _

**thighmaster1: mkay im gona go get a strawbeeyr milkshake a nd imagine im guzzling ur jizz!!**

_ sweetsuga: There is a line you crossed about seven sexual innuendoes ago! _

_ sweetsuga: Also why would I have pink jizz? Yet another unrealistic standard for men. _

**thighmaster1: i dream bout suagas penis!!!**

_ sweetsuga: Horrid, rancid filth! _

**thighmaster1: i luv u bby im going now <333**

**thighmaster1: ill return wth more sexual inuendos  tomoz <333333333333**

_ sweetsuga: Fine, goodnight. I’ll let your indiscretions slide because you send me weekly nudes. _

**thighmaster1: & what else are u forgetting to say ;))**

_ sweetsuga: Nothing of importance. _

**thighmaster1: haha and then what ;)))))**

_ sweetsuga: I love you. _

**thighmaster1: I love you too.**

_ sweetsuga:  _ ヽ(*´з｀*)ﾉ

Daichi smiled, closing his eyes for a moment. It was a fleeting instant in which he felt this kind of timelessness wonder of the untouchable youth, and he would’ve felt invincible, like time and fate grazed the edges of his fingertips if he had Suga beside him.

Because, from the beginning, he could find everything he wanted in Suga.

And it was only natural to assume that Suga would be his end then too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright lads we got two chapters left and i'm gonna type, edit, and post both of them at the same time so excuse me for fading off the face of the earth again because,,,,,,,, next time i update will be...,,,,.. the last time.
> 
> also wow i can't believe my love for lauren is so infinite that i wrote a 70k+ ode to how much i wanna cuddle her when i only planned this to be like a fun, yet dumb, 20k fic inspired by my heavenly angel's love for messaging aus, me, and naruto jokes. i started thIS SEVEN MONTHS AGO I JUST REALLY LOVE LAUREN AND EVERYONE WHO LEFT KUDOS OR COMMENTS OKAY??? ALL U KIDDOS MEAN THE MCFREAKIN' WORLD TO ME??????


	27. You Are Safe In My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suga hadn’t intended to lie to Daichi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title stolen from celine dion lyrics lol.

Suga hadn’t intended to lie to Daichi.

But, half the surprise was purposefully not telling Daichi he was, in fact, arriving in Australia on the initial date he’d promised to be there by. And it had been easy to plan how he was getting from the airport to Daichi’s hometown—terrifyingly, Kuroo had offered his car and his company—and Daichi’s parents had been informed of the covert operation—Daichi’s mum seeming more delighted with the prospect of pranking her own son than meeting Suga.

Although, the hardest part had been telling Daichi he’d be there a few months later than first expected, and subsequently upsetting him.

Daichi wasn’t emotional, but his moods could be dark, powerful things. It was his barefaced, honest approach to expressing his feelings that scared Suga—that he’d made Daichi grow frustrated and anxious over their apparent prolonged separation.

However, thanks to Asahi’s kind-hearted intervention, Suga could find some measure of peace knowing Daichi would be in a good mood the day he touched down on Australian soil, a few days before Nishinoya did the same. And so, Asahi had made a solemn vow to watch Daichi’s favourite _Naruto_ movie and shout him a pack of beer in the same afternoon Suga planned to arrive, which seemed equal to the level of happiness Daichi reached when Suga sent him a nude. Or, well, as close as he ever got to a nude.

“I forbid you from thinking about ravishing Daichi in my car,” Kuroo said, so abrupt it caused Suga to choke, equal parts horrified and amused.

“I would _never_ ,” he protested.

Kuroo hummed in response, but soon returned his attention to the road ahead. Despite Kuroo being a marvel of self-assured confidence and witty quips, he was not Suga’s first choice of driving companion. He spared a moment to mourn the certain appeal of meeting Daichi at the airport, to spending a few hours together alone in a new, wonderful, strange city, and then revelling in the simple pleasure of driving home with him. However, the thrum of excitement didn’t wane with Kuroo acting in Daichi’s stead, instead offering a different source of entertainment to Daichi’s inclination to crass, anime-themed innuendoes.

In the short time Suga had known Kuroo, he could conclude that the two least enigmatic facets of his personality were his snide sense of humour and his obvious affection for Kenma. That, Suga could understand, but what Kuroo’s appearance was an entirely different matter—sporting an all-black ensemble with his elbow was resting on the windowsill and sunglasses angled over his nose, a devil-may-care smirk curling his lips. And for a brief moment, Suga was jealous of his careless ease, but the feeling was quick to leave him. He had no reason to be unkind in his apprehension, his stomach knotting into a nervous twist at how much closer he was to Daichi—three hours, two, one.

After attempting to feign interest in the ever-changing landscape, from rolling hills to bushland to thick rows of grapevines, it was clear that Suga’s mind was occupied elsewhere. Lost to the disastrous vortex of his thoughts, the niggling fear of what could happen, what couldn’t. How Daichi would react, if he would be quick to anger or confusion, if Suga had been mistaken.

In a desperate bid to distract himself from the frantic spiral of his doubts, Suga asked, “Can we pick up some food from McDonald’s before we get to Daichi’s? I just…” He trailed off. “At least if he doesn’t agree with what I did I could appease him with a burger or something...”

Kuroo’s mouth twisted into a smile of wry amusement. “Trust me, he won’t be pissed that you pulled a fast one on him,” he said, his fist offering a placeholder for his cheek—a scene reminiscent of The Thinker. “Dude’s got a one-track mind, and all he’s been thinking about for the last year or so has been you.”

Suga glanced aside, feeling heat spread across his skin, staining it pink. If he hadn’t been so embarrassed, near enamoured with the idea that he was forever the source of Daichi’s undivided attention, he would’ve lingered on his new discoveries of Kuroo’s character. Because he knew Kuroo only through Daichi’s regales of their alcohol-infused adventures, or Kenma’s quiet comments of endearment, but he didn’t know _him_. He hadn’t realised his perception was sharper than Oikawa’s own natural intuition, and more sophisticated too.

“I don’t believe that you and Daichi are gonna meet and live happily ever after just because I want the same thing to happen with Kenma and me,” Kuroo clarified, casting a curious glance in his direction. “But Daichi’s been my friend for a long time, and I can only hope you understand that if you want to know how he feels than all you have to do is ask.”

The moment Suga attempted a grateful smile the tense set of his muscles eased, melting. What Kuroo said had been true, offering a solution that would resolve Suga’s worries with one simple action—to talk to Daichi—that had served him well so far.

Suga pulled his phone from his pocket, opening his Tumblr messenger. He followed the familiar motions that he’d soon abandon, the knowledge of this instance—the final moment in which _this_ would be the only viable option to bridge contact with Daichi—being his last was almost a nostalgic thought.

_sweetsuga: What would you do when we meet again?_

_sweetsuga: Like, how would you react?_

**thighmaster1: um firstlly imma WhiPP my DIck ouT**

**thighmaster1: nah bae i got a plan mkayy**

_sweetsuga: I’m intrigued, but terrified._

**thighmaster1: so,,, first i’d hug the heck ouuta u**

**thighmaster1: or either pick u up liek the rain scene in teh notebook**

**thighmaster1: like rela big soft warm hug whe re i put my face on ur neck and run my hands over ur back an d feel ur skin beneath my hands**

**thighmaster1: then it’s the attack fo my tende r lips**

**thighmaster1: imma kiss ur mouth, ur cheeks ur fingers**

**thighmaster1: then say belie ve it,, i love u, u were my friend sasoke**

_sweetsuga: Nothing says romance like dumb Naruto references._

**thighmaster1: and then im gonna imprint teh shape of u 2 me**

**thighmaster1: ur smell, ur taste , ur warmth**

**thighmaster1: im gonna commit it to memroy so i cant forget it**

**thighmaster1: theN~~~**

**thighmaster1: sucking ur dick is on the menu tonight boyz!!**

_sweetsuga: I’m swooning._

_sweetsuga: No, but that’s… really sweet actually._

_sweetsuga: I’ve been thinking about how much I love you all day, Daichi._

**thighmaster1: aw binch~~ I love ur sweet ass 2**

**thighmaster1: dont make me cry anymore,,,.,, ive bene watching so muc h naruto today that im weak**

**thighmaster1: but how botu u??**

**thighmaster1: what u gona do when u see,,**

**thighmaster1: m Y ASS?**

With a suddenness that shocked him, Suga was struck with an insurmountable relief that his and Daichi’s relationship had never been complicated. It hadn’t been a tragic or devastating whole, but it was heartrending in some parts, and difficult in others. Fear and doubts and insecurities could’ve forced them apart, but it hadn’t.

In the same breath as Daichi’s devotion to Suga, and Suga’s to him, their time together had been filled with all things bright and kind and good.

Their beginning was wonderful, as was their middle, and their end. However, at the heart of the tale of Daichi and Suga, their love was felt at such a deep, natural level it was almost normal to expect them to follow this course of events.

Normal, as their relationship progressed passed faceless messages, to video calls where nuance and expressions were experienced first-hand, to an airport corridor where shape and warmth and closeness was no longer imagined but  _felt_.

Normal, as Suga decided his future belonged with Daichi, and Daichi’s with him.

Normal, as Suga opened his Tumblr messenger for what he predicted would be the last time.

_sweetsuga: I’m going to cry when I see you again._

_sweetsuga: I’ll hug you, I’ll tell you I love you._

_sweetsuga: And I’ll never worry about being longer than arm’s width away from you again._

**thighmaster1: lol thats gayyyyyyyyyy**

**thighmaster1: *whispers* i love IT**

_sweetsuga:_ (＊´ω｀人´∀｀＊)

_sweetsuga: I wouldn’t have it any other way._

_sweetsuga: See you soon, Daichi_.

It was a goodbye to a readied hello, because then Kuroo was turning onto a dirt road, and pulling up to a nondescript brick house. Kuroo leaned over to fiddle with his CD player. “Here, let’s get you guys something nice and romantic playing softly in the background during your big reunion.” As ‘My Heart Will Go On’ by Celine Dion started to filter through the speakers, soft and gentle like a lover, Suga found cause to never question why Kuroo was such good friends with Daichi.

Kuroo knocked elbows with Suga, flashing him a quick smile of assurance before climbing out of the car. Exhaling, the air blowing through his clenched teeth like his final breath, Suga followed him. He lingered a few steps behind Kuroo, feeling dread coil tight in his stomach. His fingers shook.

Before Kuroo’s raised fist made contact with the front door, it burst open.

“Kuroo!” Daichi exclaimed. “You and your shitty music taste can meet me at the Denny’s parking lot at 3am!”

Stepping aside, Kuroo ensured Daichi’s vision extended past him to where Suga stood.

Suga’s breath caught, Daichi’s gaze widened—and the world stood still.

“Koushi?” Daichi whispered, faint with disbelief.

It was slow, the abortive step Daichi took forward. Hesitant. And Suga wondered with a crushing sense of impending dread that maybe it had been wrong to lie to Daichi, but then Daichi was sprinting forward with such focused velocity that Suga had no time to dwell on his feelings of unease.

Daichi crashed into Suga, the influx of weight and warmth and knowing it was Daichi— _his Daichi_ —knocking the very wind from him. Without a moment spared to process what hopeless whispers Daichi murmured into his neck, his arms were enveloping Suga, lifting him up, spinning him around.

Laughing, Suga felt all the tension bleed through him, leaving a fond kind of contentment in its absence.

Suga’s arms curled around Daichi’s neck. He refamiliarized himself with the simple pleasure of pressing his lips to Daichi’s brow, cheeks, and lips as he asked, between breaths, “Why are you wearing that stupid _Naruto_ headband?”

“Why are you here?” Daichi pulled back, the wide fan of his fingers spreading across Suga’s back as he lowered him down. His expression was something Suga hadn’t seen before—bright with surprise, his eyes shining with unshed tears. It was a rare vulnerability Daichi rarely expressed, and it broke Suga’s heart, causing his repressed emotions to rise and overflow like a dam.

“Why are you here?” Daichi repeated.

“My flights never changed, I was always coming down now.”

Daichi blinked in furious succession, tears threatening to spill. “Is it really you?”

Suga nodded, feeling his bottom lip tremble.

“I’m not dreaming?”

Choking on a wet laugh, Suga shook his head.

“You’re here?” The first fissure of desperate emotion had spread throughout Daichi’s façade of composure, reducing him to this feeling—a quiet reverence, an overwhelming flood of delight.

“I’m here,” Suga managed to say, his response paper-thin and wavering.

“You’re gonna stay with me?”

“I’m going to stay with you this time.”

Daichi’s smile was tremulous, lips pressing together to stifle the whimper which threatened to escape his throat. Driven by the surge of need to console his boyfriend, to reassure him through silent touch, Suga raised his hands to hold Daichi’s face between his palms.

“I’m never going to leave you, Daichi,” Suga said, forcing his voice to steady.

At that point, he may have been breaking, frail under the relieved weight of two years’ worth of doubts and fears and compromises, but in his conviction to stand beside Daichi he could be firm. He could be strong. He could believe Daichi could be his anchor as much as Suga did for him.

Because Suga knew that Daichi would become his home, a place carved from this earth just for him. And this town would act as his second home too. The map of roads, local stores, and picturesque waterfronts would become familiar, the rustic tang of country air and seasonal bloom of citrus flowers would become a comfort. He could settle into the humdrum of rural life, then to the bustling liveliness of the city, because Daichi would match his pace to Suga’s. He would walk beside him, not in front or behind, but close to him.

There would be no need to glance at his phone again, no frustrating reliance on technological communication. Suga would never have reason to question Daichi’s feelings or actions, or even the space between them, because his future no longer hinged on ensuring the message—however simple or trivial or wonderful—sent.

“I love you, okay?”

The possible responses were a wide and deep reserve of ill-timed jokes, but instead, Daichi’s hands pressed over Suga’s, and he said, “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blame the surplus of kuroo on lauren (ily bae).
> 
> alright alright alright i'll upload the smutty epilogue promptly and here is a helpful visual representation of it:  
> 


	28. Epilogue: A Few Months And A Whole Lot Of Dick Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Believe it?”
> 
> “Believe it.”
> 
> “Maybe believe it will be our always,” was Suga’s conspiring whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before my long, rambling, profound end author's note gets in the way i just wanna say thanks to lauren for editing, for theorising plot points and character tics, and supporting me throughout this whole venture. we both had no idea where this was going but i'm glad i was able to travel this road with u.
> 
> ((also the iwaoi sequel is something i wanna do in the future but don't know when lol bye)).

In the six months following Suga’s arrival to Australia, Daichi had succeeded in being everything Suga already knew he was—kinda oafish, unthinking only in his honesty, and terribly romantic. In moments of homesickness and drawn-out Skype calls with Oikawa, Daichi had offered what comfort he could. Ready-made cups of herbal tea and sweet, brief kisses of reassurance, promises to visit another place of isolated beauty, and Macca’s meals catered perfectly to Suga’s preferences.

But, over time, Suga had eased into a comfortable, happy lifestyle. Noya’s presence was a prominent factor which helped Suga to acclimatise to a foreign country, most usually through sharing complaints about the weather and the alarming transition of domestic farmland into the open, untamed nothingness of the outback. Although it was still all so different to him, on a personal and social level.

The widespread acceptance of multiculturalism in such a rural setting was a welcome change from his home, as was Suga’s seamless integration into Daichi’s friend group through lazy afternoons spent drinking and partly competitive volleyball games. And he grew accustomed to everything—the heat and the idyllic calm of the riverside—and to everyone—to Kuroo and Bokuto’s wild sense of camaraderie, to Akaashi’s serene intelligence, to Asahi’s unfailing generosity.

An additional aspect which had greatly improved Suga’s general mood and further affirmed his belief in moving to Australia as a good idea was a simple, almost natural one—it was sex. His newfound freedom was explored together with Daichi through the base human pleasure of being able to touch and breathe and _be_ with another, but that was an entirely different matter to address.

And it was fun, it was a future which was exciting and daunting and _new_ , and Suga loved each moment that had led him here, to Daichi. To their burgeoning life together.

However, Daichi still managed to test the limits of his and Suga’s relationship, threatening to breach one personal boundary he considered imperative to uphold—and that was prohibiting all touch or acknowledgment of that which existed below his ankles.

“Want me to wash your feet?”

Suga blanched, drawing his knees closer to his chest in a protective haunch. His mouth tightened. “Um, no,” he said in his weak defence, “please don’t touch my feet.”

Daichi frowned, slapping his forearm to dissuade the irritating buzz of mosquitoes—because camping in Australia was a wonderful, awful curse. “What the fuck is wrong with me touching your feet?” He halted, grinning. “Boy, do you have a secret foot kink you didn’t tell me about?”

“No!”

“Are you sure?”

“Daichi, no!”

“Then what’s the problem, bucko?” Daichi crouched in front of Suga, adjusting the Velcro strap of his baseball cap over his forehead. Despite the painful redness of sunburn, the crown of his head was marked with a deep line of pressure.

“You know I hate feet,” Suga said, vehement in his disgust. “They’re just, like, really gross.”

“I’m very much willing to suck your dick any day of the week and you think me touching your feet crosses the line?”

Suga wished he had crawled into the swag—an outdoor Australian sleeping bag-tent hybrid, Daichi described it as—before, so he could at least hide the flush of red painted across his cheeks. Instead, Daichi rested his hand on his closed fist, intent on watching Suga grow flustered with a smile of lazy amusement.

“Because you didn’t make me touch anything that squirmed today, I’ll let you wash my feet,” Suga surrendered. He glanced aside, feigning flippancy. “You weirdo.”

“But I’m _your_ weirdo.”

Daichi had his back turned to Suga before his spectacular failure at hiding his smile behind a fan of his fingers had become apparent, but he was sure Daichi knew.

Even here, his hair reeking of smoke and fingers smeared with grease and dirt, Suga had never been more content when camping. Nothing quite compared to the tranquil calm of the river, the deep channel of water framed against a backdrop of towering gumtrees and Australian shrubs, the opposite bank lined with an imperious stone outcrop of ochre cliffs. There was a complete absence of sound, save for a quiet buzz of insects and infrequent bird calls.

“It’s real nice out here,” Suga said when Daichi returned, the former absentminded with a complete sense of serenity.

Glancing up at him, Daichi flashed his usual smile—alarming in its sudden handsomeness. Sitting cross-legged in front of Suga, Daichi reached forward to pull the latter’s mud-encrusted feet into his lap with a gentleness his broad frame seemed incapable of.

“Do you really need to do this?” Suga asked, dubiously unrested.

“Nothing’s worse than sleeping with dirty feet, mate.”

“But—”

“Well, I’m all up for it if you wanna get dirty, though.”

The slap of Suga’s hand to Daichi’s sunburn-red bicep echoed throughout their surroundings, the noise carrying with a startling clarity across the water’s surface. Daichi’s jubilant laughter soon followed.

“Sorry, babe,” Daichi apologised, sounding not even remotely guilty. “I’ll stop, I swear.”

Making a disbelieving noise of dismissal, Suga remained silent as he watched Daichi return his attention the former’s feet—which, _ugh_ , was ugly to even think about. Swatting at the irritating hover of mosquitoes around his face, Daichi dipped his spare shirt into a bucket of water he’d toiled from the riverside and proceeded to wipe the crusted dirt from Suga’s skin in purposeful swipes of the too-soft fabric.

“Daichi, you really don’t need to do that, you know?”

Smiling, Daichi rebuffed, “It’s fine, Suga. I don’t mind.”

The quietness settled over them again, causing Suga to feel like only he and Daichi existed here, isolated in the perfect calm of the Australian wilderness.

“I never feel as home anywhere else than out here, or at Pop’s sheep station,” Daichi admitted afterwards, alternating his substitute towel to Suga’s other foot. “You can just relax out here, since there’s nothing to worry about, nothing but you and what you have.” His shoulders easing into a relaxed drop, he sighed, basking in the same perfect stillness as Suga. “Ever since I was a kid, it was the outback or bust. “

“It’s special here, isn’t it?”

“Not this place exactly, but yeah.” A considering pause, and then Daichi continued, “it’s special when I’m with someone who appreciates it as much as I do.”

“So, no other people you’ve taken out here before then?”

If Suga’s gut had twisted at the possibility of Daichi sharing the same experience with another faceless partner, all his lingering reservations were extinguished in the instant following Daichi’s casual remark.

“Fuck no,” Daichi scoffed. “There’s no one as cute I’d want to take out here anyway.”

“Really?”

Daichi must’ve noticed the underlying tone of insecurity in Suga’s voice, because he looked up in a quick flick of his head, his mouth opening as his brows creased in seriousness. “I only ever wanted to do something like this with you, babe. Trust me on that, alright?”

Suga made a noise of unconvinced assent, to which Daichi arched his eyebrow.

“Look, here we go,” Daichi announced with a small measure of pride, hands cradling Suga’s freshly scrubbed feet. “Pretty good job on my part, to get them so clean and shit.”

“Are you needling for a job well done?”

“Well,” Daichi paused, for the sake of theatrics, “a kiss wouldn’t be so bad.”

Rolling his eyes, Suga reached forward, taking a gentle hold of Daichi’s chin before pressing their lips together in chaste union. Daichi hummed in contentment, before the noise tapered off into exaggerated dissatisfaction as Suga drew backwards, his fingertips tingling with heat at the memory of Daichi’s skin.

“I think I deserve a little more sugar than that, baby.” Daichi leaned in, his approaching figure an inviting shape of muscle, but Suga’s resolve outmatched his burgeoning lack of self-control.

“No,” Suga rebuffed, “you need to go clean the barbeque and get rid of the leftovers, like you promised.” He pushed against Daichi’s naked shoulders, forcing himself  _not_ think about how eager Daichi looked, bent at his feet like a worshipper before his religion.

Daichi sighed. “You’re lucky I love you, you beautiful douchebag.”

Stifling an endeared chuckle, Suga pulled a thick handful of the thermal sleeping bag to his waist, falling backward into the thin yet serviceably comfortable span of the mattress. He closed his eyes, listening to the faint, relaxing sounds of Daichi moving about the campsite, metal clanging amidst the gentle crackling of the fire, and the subsequent splash of water.

“Babe, want me to check your line for you?” Daichi called out. Suga spared a glance in his direction, seeing Daichi submerged knee-deep in river water, standing near Suga’s fishing rod secured at the back of the dinghy.

“Yeah, go for it.”

“Want me to put a bell on it, too?”

“Don’t you even think about it,” Suga warned.

Due to his light sleeping pattern, Suga had been awoken thrice to sound of the frantic ringing last night, and all his disastrous fumbling in the dark had caused more raucous noise than the bell did, waking Daichi up too. He didn’t dare to think about the first night here when all three of Daichi’s fishing lines were cast and appropriately secured with bells, serving no purpose but to interrupt Suga’s truly stellar blowjob. He was still bitter about the whole debacle, really—especially when Daichi had been overwhelmed with his last two weeks of work before their planned pre-Christmas weekend camping trip, and hardly had the time to do more than kiss Suga in swift greeting and farewell at home.

Not that he wasn’t sexually frustrated, of course, but Suga did want to at least affirm the fact he didn’t cross an ocean to get the same complete lack of dick he did back in America.

A stray thought filtered through his mind, a sure-fire technique to pique Daichi’s interest in more than the subject of fishing. Not that Daichi wouldn’t fuck him at the first possible chance of getting any ass, but on the rare chance Suga had to take initiative in their sexual endeavours, he had to make the intent exceedingly clear.

Resolved, Suga braced his feet on the mattress and hooked his fingers into his waistband. He pulled his shorts off in one quick, decisive action, attempting to be more obvious in his actions rather than subtle. Sitting up, he tugged his T-shirt over his head, and discarded his clothing in a careful bundle behind the head of the swag.

When he had turned around, pale, bare legs shifting in the soft glow of dusk, Suga noticed that he couldn’t hear more than a faint buzz of insects, or the slow trickle of water. His pulse elevating to a strong beat of nervousness, Suga’s gaze lifted from the rumpled sheets to where Daichi stood, still knee-deep in water with teeth sinking into his lower lip in restraint.

Daichi stooped low to cup a handful of water and splash it over the back of his neck. The gesture was deliberate, a means to draw Suga’s focus to the muscled breadth of his shoulders—Daichi must’ve pulled off his singlet when Suga wasn’t looking. Suga swallowed a whimper that threatened to pass the seam of his lips, instead stifling the noise, knees pressing together to hide his embarrassment at being looked at with such thorough, obvious attention.

Daichi’s gaze flickered down, up, and then he was walking towards Suga with a conviction that couldn’t be unfounded. A flush of heat bloomed across Suga’s cheeks, and his fingers flexed in a reflexive action of restlessness against the mattress. He was nervous, excited—but all his emotions were overlaid by the raw ache of hunger as Daichi paused at the foot of his swag, lowering into a crouch.

Fingers brushed Suga’s skin as Daichi crawled forward, a powerful force that commanded— _demanded_ —him to succumb to the magnetic pull of Daichi’s presence. “Suga?” Daichi asked, feigning composure.

He hummed in response, not trusting himself to speak.

“Was that a come-on, Sugawara Koushi?”

The low, familiar tone of Daichi’s voice simmered in Suga’s veins, kindled a flame anew in his groin.

Daichi grinned. “Well, it worked.” He looked aside, all concentrated force of his overwhelming allure disappearing in a gusty exhale. “But I did plan out this whole seduction I was gonna work on you tonight, and you ruined it by flashing your sexy ass legs.”

Suga laughed, only mildly disappointed at the drastic—yet still welcome—change in atmosphere. “I’m sorry someone thinks with their dick,” he said, fingers swiping across the lengths of Daichi’s arms, meaning to entice him closer.

“You asshole,” Daichi scoffed. “You do realise I had this whole playlist ready and you had to go and seduce me, like? I had music and some witty dialogue planned, you fucker. You absolute _fucker_.”

Suga’s smile was a vision of arrogant satisfaction, a comically evil expression. Snorting, Daichi warned him to _buckle up, princess_ before running his fingers down Suga’s sensitive sides, seemingly thrilled when he burst out in a laughter.

“No, Daichi! Stop!”

“Fucking repent for your sins.” Snaking a knee between Suga’s thighs, Daichi used his weight to press Suga down into the mattress, continuing to mercilessly tickle him.

“No, I can’t—I can’t breathe!”

“The power of Christ compels you, the power of Christ compels you!”

“Never!”

“Not even Asahi can save you now.”

Suga’s voice edged into hysteria, the force of his uncontrolled heaves of laughter causing his eyes to water, his hands offering weak resistance to Daichi’s cruel assault. “Honey, please,” Suga pleaded. “I—I literally can’t breathe.”

Daichi relented, watching Suga’s laughter subside with a smile that glinted with unmeasured happiness. “You’re so cute,” he said, announcing it like Suga didn’t know.

“I’m aware of the fact,” Suga replied, a hand resting over Daichi’s on his stomach.

The amusement had bled from him, leaving a warm resonance in his bones, and Suga was almost prepared for the night’s charged atmosphere to mellow into this—this gentle, comfortable ease. However, he didn’t foresee the sudden press of Daichi’s lips to Suga’s neck, his cheek, the side of his mouth.

It was a natural course of events for Suga to turn his chin, meeting Daichi’s kiss. A slow melding of touch, not chaste but still sweet. Although Daichi was quick to abandon the amiable pleasantness, instead forging ahead to coax Suga’s mouth open, to feel his tongue slide against his. A moan built in the recesses of Suga’s chest, reverberating in the tight clench of his throat.

However, Daichi was quick to retreat, fortunate enough to act before Suga’s arousal had flared into the insistent heat of desperate need, and he wasn’t compelled to draw Daichi back to him again. His restraint was wearing thin, but not too thin that Suga would cast all feasible logic aside to demand a proper, good, hard dickin’.

“Wait,” Daichi said, sitting up to rummage through the built-in compartment at the head of the swag. With a careful patience, Suga waited, resting his hand on Daichi’s lower thigh. “Just look what I bought exactly for this moment, babe. You’re gonna love it.” He presented the item to Suga with a theatrical flourish.

“What to heck is that?” Suga asked, his voice high-pitched with disbelief.

Daichi grinned, a slow, self-satisfied curl of his mouth. “Glow-in-the-dark condoms.”

“Throw that at least ten feet away from me before even thinking about going anywhere near the general proximity of my dick. Or me.”

“Stop using fancy words during foreplay.”

“Stop buying weird stuff like flavoured lube and novelty condoms,” Suga retorted, sounding too close to laughter to wield a cruel edge to his tone.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Daichi acquiesced, sliding the plastic square of the condom between the folds of the swag and the amassed blankets before stretching upwards, a hand searching beneath the pillow under Suga’s head. It was an unthinking, purposeful movement, confident where it would’ve been careful a few months ago, mindful of their tenuous, newfound interest in sex.

Daichi hissed a curse, his search for alternative contraception seeming to be a frustrated, fruitless venture, but Suga looked up and smiled at him. He knew sometimes Daichi was oblivious to his surroundings, or the nuance of expressions, but it was a kind of mesmerising to watch him so absorbed in his task he forgot where or _who_ he was doing.

“Daichi?”

He hummed in response.

In lieu of an audible answer, Suga ran his hands along Daichi’s naked sides, the startling heat of his flesh a welcome sensation against the natural cool of Suga’s fingertips. A sharp inhale drew Suga’s attention to the taut line of Daichi’s throat, and the flex of muscle in his upper arms—and Daichi then remembered where he was now, braced over Suga with a scarce few layers separating them.

As one of Suga’s hands swept down the strong, broad bend of Daichi’s back, the latter swallowed, a low whine caught between his gritted teeth. Daichi emanated with a raw, masculine power, something that made Suga’s blood run electric and his heartbeat quicken—a song of excitement. The air between them was suspended in a state of tense anticipation, like seconds before the fall, and then—

The spread of Suga’s legs widened in clear invitation, the soft, supple warmth of his inner thigh brushing against Daichi’s hip, and then he was surging forward. Not with the ill-advised speed to cause collision, but a firm invasion of space, his mouth fitting over Suga’s mouth with an assured practise. Suga felt a pleased sound trill through his bones, hardly recognising the noise as it echoed from beneath his ribcage as he focused entirely on Daichi.

Gone was the gentle chasteness of before, and instead Daichi was quick to dart his tongue forward, teasing the seam of Suga’s lips open—as he was quick to accept. Their teeth did clink together, both lost to each other, but it forced Daichi to consider the best method of approaching a new position. He pulled back with a wet, panting breath, a hand sliding beneath Suga’s arm to better support himself as he pressed into Suga, the movement completed in such efficient, swift succession that Suga couldn’t collect himself fast enough to do more than make a breathless noise of want.

However, the sound tapered into a high, stuttered gasp when Daichi’s full weight covered him, enveloping Suga. His senses were overwhelmed with the closeness of Daichi—the comfort found the earthiness of his scent, the sudden, alarming influx of naked heat. Suga moved based on instinctual need, feeling his hips jerk upwards so his erection could find some semblance of relief, urging Daichi closer in desperate, hushed whispers.

“Koushi, fuck,” Daichi swore, gravel-rough.

His fingers abandoned their protective curl around Suga’s knee to slid between their bodies, finding Suga’s cock, stroking it once, twice, thrice. Shivering, Suga clutched onto Daichi, fingernails leaving half-moon imprints in his skin, the still night air shattered with the helpless sounds of pleasure. Emboldened, Daichi’s growl reverberated through his chest, and the sheer need thrumming in Suga’s veins intensified with the feral sound, with the knowledge Daichi was as far gone as him.

“You too, we gotta—” Suga mumbled, forgoing his selfish want to finding quick release. Instead, he sacrificed one hand—the other maintaining a steadfast hold around Daichi’s neck—to mirror Daichi’s actions.

Suga was pleased with how Daichi’s groan felt against his neck, wet and desperate, as his own fingers fumbled against his in the dark, winding around Daichi’s cock in a loose hold. It was a little awkward, but it had long surpassed the normal boundaries of embarrassment or self-consciousness, diverting into unthinking, assertive want.

Quickening the sure, firm strokes of his hand to match Daichi’s pace, Suga felt his skin prickle with sunburn-heat, each iota of his awareness yearning for more—taste, sound, touch. It wasn’t enough, even as the sensation of friction was gratifying, and the intermittent kisses Daichi pressed to his neck was even more so.

“God, Koushi,” Daichi muttered into Suga’s skin, “I love you. I love you so much.”

_Too close, too hot._

“You’re so—So beautiful, I can’t—”

“Daichi,” Suga cried out, weak. “Daichi, we need to stop—If you want to—”

“What?” Daichi was stilling, drawing backwards.

And—no, Suga didn’t want that, couldn’t make Daichi think he had done something wrong. “I mean,” he rushed to offer clarification, “that if we want to have sex we have to—to stop now.” Daichi felt distant from him, hovering at the edge of his reach.

“Oh,” Daichi’s exhale was relieved, exhausted.

“Sorry, it came out weird.” After ignoring the anxious tightening of his insides, Suga braced himself on his elbows and raised upwards to kiss Daichi, reassured when their lips melded together with no resistance. “Here,” he prompted, kissing Daichi again, “lay down.”

Daichi acquiesced, shifting so he laid against the mattress as Suga followed his movements, swinging his legs over Daichi’s waist to straddle him. The sudden exposure of air to overheated skin was almost painful, pinpricks of sensation, but the comforting shape of Daichi beneath him drew his attention down, down, down.

Suga could feel Daichi’s gaze trained on him, could expect to see the dangerous curl of his lip if he dared to look up. He exhaled once, a steadying breath, before reaching for the packet of lube he knew Daichi had stored at the head of the swag. He hissed, once, as their cocks slid together in a whisper of sated friction. Daichi’s fingers trailed over Suga’s arms as he stretched overhead, whisper-soft touches following the natural curves of his frame to rest against his hips, palms secured around Suga’s waist like a searing brand.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Daichi said, his admission coaxing a deeper flush to Suga’s skin.

“Stop that,” Suga chided, embarrassed.

“Nah, not when I got an angel about three seconds away from riding my dick—”

Intent on cutting Daichi’s ramblings short, Suga squeezed his fingers around Daichi’s erection, swallowing at the sound of Daichi’s choked moan, and the throb of heat in his grip.

“ _Koushi_ —”

Suga placed a finger to Daichi’s lips, silencing him in one movement before proceeding to tear the packet open. Slick wetness spilled over Suga’s fingers, and when he reached behind himself he felt the livewire tension of Daichi’s legs, the muscles of his abdomen tautening.

A tongue darted over Daichi’s lips, an excited tease. Suga’s chest filled with air, and when he— _finally_ —pressed his fingers past the first rim of resistance into himself he watched the slight, hopeless parting of Daichi’s mouth. Attuned to Daichi’s reaction, to every hitch of breath and every involuntary shake, Suga focused on working himself open.

It felt dangerous, and new, to be laid out so openly before Daichi. Stripped down to his own flesh and bones, words and touch spoken through a heady haze of lust, Suga shivered. In a desperate bid to find something else to call his attention to besides Daichi’s quiet, magnetic power, Suga’s hips rolled forward—just enough to spark sensation, to stabilise the volatile, supercharged energy crackling beneath their skin.

In a few decisive, efficient movements Suga could feel his natural tightness loosen, eager to chase the hurried, wonderful satisfaction he’d felt before. It was quick, although not unthorough, and for a moment it was strange about how easy it was now, how familiar. Their natural progression into sex was not without a tedious, drawn-out introduction into the whole realm of fooling around, but it did find an eventual release, spilling into a frantic, constant arousal which simmered beneath their skin.

Initially, Daichi had acted as Suga’s anchor, a familiar vision of collected calm, soothing Suga’s nervousness with the deliberate brush of fingertips over his face, back, legs, never once causing him to feel unwanted. Yes, he had been embarrassed, sputtering nervous apologies and asking Daichi if it was good, but now heeded no question—he knew what Daichi liked, and he provided.

Thrust out of his reverie, Suga gasped at the sudden influx of sensation, feeling Daichi’s fingers join his inside him. A whimper filtered through the still air, the mere knowledge enough to cause Suga’s pulse to thrum with the erratic beat of arousal. He could feel Daichi’s stomach rise and fall with heaving breaths beneath the brace of his unoccupied hand, and then he was seized with an overwhelming need to bridge all that remained between them. That his one single purpose in this moment was to be with Daichi at the most base human level of contact.

“Where’s the—” Suga breathed, unable to find the words. Too frantic to care.

Sitting upwards, Daichi pressed a whispered apology into his skin as he reached behind Suga, the brief dislodge of contact already too prolonged. Suga kissed the crown of Daichi’s head as he waited, sinking into the sweat-damp closeness of him.

“Fuck,” Daichi swore, pulling backwards. “Here, I got it.”

Suga watched as Daichi tore the condom packet open with a barely restrained impatience, rolling it onto his cock with a practised efficiency, almost fumbling in his haste. In the instant he was prepared, Daichi glanced up to meet Suga’s gaze, their foreheads merging into a point of contact that seemed more intimate than the act of sex itself. They shared a breathless, elated smile, adoring of each other—to being able to spend the flush of youth together, limitless in the love kindled between them.

Their lips melded together in a chaste, fleeting union, just once.

And then Suga was pushing forward, rearranging himself so he was poised above Daichi, fingers wrapping around his cock. As he lowered himself downwards in a sinuous, wet slide, Suga felt Daichi stutter a low, helpless groan against his neck. He swallowed, concentrating on Daichi’s fingers flexing in his enveloping grip around Suga’s waist and not the surge of sensation, not the burst of scarcely gratifying friction as his cock brushed against Daichi’s abdomen. Suga only allowed himself to breathe when his full weight settled into Daichi’s lap, failing again to remember how natural it was to feel Daichi exist within him.

It was near unfathomable to think that in a universe as large and mysterious as this, Suga could be granted the simple, seemingly monumental pleasure of knowing what it felt like to love someone.

Forever the one to shatter the profound musings of love and life alike, Daichi said, “Sorry if I come in two minutes, babe. I’ve just—” He grimaced as Suga spread his knees, further fusing their limbs together in an interlocked embrace. “I haven’t touched you in two weeks and I felt like I’ve been on the edge for the last half an hour.”

“Same—oh fuck, Daichi,” Suga gritted out, feeling himself clench around the firm heat of Daichi’s cock. There was a shuddering exhale, and then Daichi’s arms were winding fully around Suga’s lower back, his head nestled in the crook of Suga’s neck.

“You know how Oikawa and Iwaizumi are flying in this Monday, right?”

“Why are we—” A harsh inhale. “Why are we fucking talking about Oikawa when—”

“You have to promise to find the time to get me off at least once a week,” Suga declared, too preoccupied with the sensation of Daichi inside him to feel slight appeasement at hearing his tone thicken, grow darker.

Daichi swallowed. “Yeah, sure. I’ll bust your nut.”

If Suga wasn’t breathing in short, shallow pants, if he wasn’t quivering with the need to move after such a long period of abstinence, he would’ve hit Daichi on the upside of his head. Instead, he used the secure brace of his legs to raise himself up, and then down. The shake in Suga’s legs wasn’t evident until Daichi laid back and his hands skated across the lovely paleness of Sugas thighs, fingers cupping the flesh to offer a semblance of support as Suga found purchase to increase his pace.

It had become apparent to him that thinking about sex and experiencing it where two vastly different concepts, because here— _now_ —Suga didn’t realise he was whimpering, he didn’t focus on which position or speed would be easier to find a quicker release, he just needed to feel. And in the dim light of dusk he could adequately see every nuanced flicker of emotion in Daichi’s expression as the heated trail of his gaze ran over Suga’s body, catching on his lips and cock and marks patterning the luminescent easel of his skin.

He cried out, the noise punched from his chest as Daichi thrust into him. The force was unpredicted, the suddenness of it causing white-hot sensation to follow the curve of Suga’s spine, pleasure coiling low in his abdomen. Daichi repeated the action, his hips fucking upwards, tipping Suga forward until he spread both his hands over Daichi’s stomach in an attempt to brace himself.

“Daichi,” Suga warned, “I’m not gonna last long.”

Daichi snorted. “And what the fuck makes you think I will?”

Instead of a witty retort, Suga shrieked as Daichi surged forward, collecting Suga’s body close to his as he turned in one streamline motion, depositing Suga onto his back. Hovering overhead, Daichi’s grin was such a triumphant gleam of teeth. Well, he would’ve protested to abrupt change in positions if Daichi hadn’t persisted in urging Suga’s bent legs apart, pressing the familiar weight of his sturdy frame into Suga, ensuring he couldn’t think beyond the feel of him.

The words slipped from Suga’s mouth, an unbidden plea of, “Harder.”

Daichi nodded, lips brushing against Suga’s in wordless compliance as he secured the spread of his legs. One hand curling over Suga’s knee was all the warning he had before Daichi was thrusting forward again, the overwhelming strength of it driving Suga a few inches up the mattress.

Helpless to the raw, masculine power of Daichi, Suga was enamoured with the muscled flex of his body into him, his senses blind to all that wasn’t Daichi. A thoughtless noise of pleasure escaped him at the joined point of contact, the deep-rooted satisfaction. And then Suga needed to feel closer to Daichi, he had to. His legs wrapped around Daichi, a grip tightening into the short bristles of his hair for a moment before drifting below, digging into the rounded flesh of his ass—an urge to continue, to quicken.

Daichi’s groan was lost between the muffled press of Suga’s lips to him, his free hand reaching to find Suga’s own, interlocking their fingers. It was the last point of contact, the gesture underlined with a mutual affection and trust that transcended physical wants, and then Daichi was fucking with abandon, without restraint.

The force of Daichi’s actions, the relentless motions of his hips, it all caused heat to kindle between his and Daichi’s skin, the electric buzz of burning want in his veins. Suga whimpered again at the feeling of Daichi pushing so far, so deep into him. Inside, Suga could feel Daichi inside him, moving with him, and it was a visceral need that forced him to enfold Daichi further into his embrace, to keep him there forever.

“Koushi, Koushi,” Daichi was panting, a hand sliding between their conjoined bodies to curl around Suga’s erection and—

He cried out, the friction offering blessed relief from the pleasure building at the base of his spine, before it rose, cresting. Wetness spilt over Daichi’s knuckles, smeared against Suga’s stomach. Suga was desperate to chase the euphoric release to his simmering arousal, hips stuttering forward in a weak attempt to meet Daichi’s firm thrusts. Wanting to prolong this moment, the profound, complete perfection of it, Suga clenched around Daichi as his thrusts seemed to stutter, to slow.

“I love you, Daichi,” Suga said, an unthinking confession. “I love you so much.”

“Me too—I love you, I fucking love—”

And then, with a final, unforgiving burst of strength, Daichi pushed into Suga until he stilled, his shoulders shuddering with a wracking pleasure. Suga held him, and held and held and held until the tension was easing from Daichi’s back. Until he was murmuring senseless endearments into his skin, kissing along the bare stretch of Suga’s skin—collarbone, clavicle, neck, cheeks, mouth, forehead.

“You’re so pretty, you’re so fucking pretty I can’t believe it sometimes,” Daichi admitted, “can’t believe I can fuck you whenever I want. Can’t believe I have you all to myself.”

Suga snorted feebly, a hand caressing the side of Daichi’s head, silent in his reverence. “I can’t believe you passed up on a _Naruto_ reference.”

He flashed a faint smile as Daichi pushed himself upwards to meet Suga’s gaze, both of them wincing at the sudden burst of sensation. Forgetting the sentence that had formed along his tongue, Daichi glanced at where they were still joined, grimacing as he moved to alleviate his weight against Suga.

“Is it uncomfortable? Do you want me to pull out?” Daichi asked, sounding embarrassed despite the fact he had just literally finished _fucking_ _Suga_.

Debating it for a moment, Suga conceded. “Fine, just—do it slowly.”

With a gentleness that was unlike his size, Daichi drew away from Suga, the loss of contact an alarming absence. Even now, weeks and months later, Suga still struggled to part with Daichi following the haze of sex, standards of appropriate cleanliness be damned.

“You like it, don’t you?” Daichi asked, noticing the slight downturn of Suga’s mouth. “When I don’t pull out for a while?

Suga rolled his eyes, his elbows knocking against Daichi’s beside him.

“Babe, don’t avoid the subject.”

A weary sigh. “I would’ve thought me liking it would be a given.”

Daichi’s laughter echoed across the sleepy landscape, the noise causing warmth to bloom beneath Suga’s breastbone. He looked to Daichi again, watching transfixed as the wrinkles framing his eyes and corners of his mouth smoothed, happiness remaining etched into the spread of his smile.

“Come here,” Suga murmured, reaching across to slid his fingers around the back of Daichi’s neck. He drew him closer, sharing the air, and then Suga kissed him with a firmness he hoped would convey even the slightest fraction of his feelings for Daichi.

Daichi’s chest vibrated with an appreciate hum, his palm sliding over the curve of Suga’s hip. “That was awfully cute of you,” Daichi said, kissing Suga again, and again, and again.

“Hurry and clean me up, and I’ll promise it’ll get a lot cuter,” Suga answered with a swift decisiveness. He was greeted with only marginal satisfaction at seeing Daichi’s mouth open in exaggerated offense, but then he was smiling with an unaffected carelessness, rummaging around for a packet of wet wipes he’d stored for this exact reason.

“If you keep talking like that you’re gonna turn into Oikawa,” Daichi warned, guiding Suga’s legs apart to wash his skin clean with a carefulness that was inherently kind.

Resting a hand on Daichi’s shoulder just to maintain contact between them, to celebrate the ease of being linked to one another, Suga teased, “If I’m Oikawa, that’d make you Iwaizumi then.”

“I can deal with an increase in biceps and a more high-maintenance boyfriend.”

Suga shoved Daichi’s chest, no real ill-favour influencing his actions.

“But he’ll be visiting soon, so don’t worry,” Daichi said before Suga had the time to dwell on the fact he missed his best friend. “You won’t even notice he was gone with him unleashing all bitchin’ he’s been repressing for the past few months with just Iwaizumi for company. Also, I’m sure he took a million pictures of Walt now he’s looking after him.” Suga was infinitely grateful for Daichi then, for him understanding even the intricacies of his own mind better than he did.

“I love you,” Suga blurted out.

Daichi quirked an eyebrow, finally capable of settling into the rumpled sheets of his swag, pulling Suga to him. He went into Daichi’s embrace gladly, his limbs relaxing into an exhausted sprawl. Daichi pressed a kiss to Suga’s forehead, a hand sliding down the span of his back before tracing the svelte line of it upwards, their legs tangling together in the space between comfort and rest.

“I love you, Daichi,” Suga said again.

“It’s okay, babe. I know.”

Suga exhaled, settling into the warmth of Daichi.

“Wow, the stars are so beautiful tonight,” Daichi said, forever one to ruin—or improve—the mood with the inclusion of ill-timed memes.

Casting his gaze above them, past the sparse canopy of gum trees, Suga did agree that the evening sky was a vision of what select few had the luxury to call resplendent. The Australian wilderness was still largely uncultivated and scarcely visited, and Suga marvelled at how no one else could attest to being here, in this exact moment and place, to witness the same beauty he did.

Playing his part, Suga sighed wistfully. “Yeah, they are.”

“You know who else is beautiful?”

Suga feigned wide-eyed naivety. “Who?”

“You.”

A finger brushed across the tip of Suga’s nose, the action so gentle and endearing he could do naught but rest his head against Daichi’s chest, gazing at him in a love-struck daze. And it was silly, and cliché, but Suga was allowed to bask in what had grown and solidified between them over a long, angst-ridden period of time and separation.

Affection was all that remained the wake of their shyness and insecurities, and for that Suga would never dare to change what he had suffered to get here. Because he had Daichi, and he had this moment—and for that Suga was grateful.

Grateful that he could reach across Daichi’s chest to lay his palm over his heart and know he would never be parted from that steady, dependable sound of his pulse. _It’s beating for you_ , Daichi had once said, because he was one of the sappiest people Suga knew. He was grateful for that too.

“Hey, Suga?”

“Yeah?”

“I forgot to say I love you too.”

Suga’s smile was slow and wonderful, because he loved Daichi—loved him with such an ample breath of emotion that couldn’t be aptly named or described, but merely felt. Ingrained along his bones, flowing through his veins, given shape in the beat of his heart and meaning in the quiet intimacy of Suga’s lips pressing into Daichi’s.

There was a shaking inhale, and Daichi’s gaze was wide and awed when Suga pulled back.

“Believe it?”

“Believe it.”

“Maybe believe it will be our always,” was Suga’s conspiring whisper.

Daichi extended two of his fingers forward, his elbow bumping against Suga’s side as he reached into the air above them. It was a stupid gesture, rooted in the melodramatics of _Naruto_ references—it was a seal of reconciliation, marking the symbol of harmony between combatant partners after sparring. However, it was a reconnection of feelings without sound or expression, a mutual reaffirmation of what would forever exist between them, soul-deep and transcendent.

Chance had thrown them together, but love supported what followed. Their feelings grew and strengthened and solidified after everything that had transpired—all the awkward messages, the silly jokes and innuendoes and memes, the anticipation of wanting what seemed impossible, the video calls and smiles and laughter, the first meeting, the first kiss, the first everything.

Their future was no longer uncertain, instead, it would be a simple result of the love they shared.

“Believe it?” It was a question hiding another— _always?_

“Believe it,” Suga said, twining two of his fingers with Daichi’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all those who know me, I'm a decidedly consistent person, until I'm inconsistent. By that I mean I don’t plan most things I write, say, or do. I have no fucking clue how or when I decided to write Message Sent, but I do know that it does revolve around Lauren in some way or another.
> 
> Maybe in the comfortable silence between the staticky receiving video of Skype calls, between the daily three-to-eight-hundred seconds of Snapchats, the Tumblr messages, the thought of her, of fics, of us. I think it had something to do with Lauren saying she liked Texting AUs, and me saying I'd never really found a good one, and then moving on from there—me choosing to write, her promising to edit, of basing it on our relationship, of something that spanned distance and differences, of realising I did really love her.
> 
> It spiraled outta control, of course, because I’m inconsistent in all things but my feelings, but I'm proud of the work I created and polished, of those I've met because of it, of those who commented or messaged me to gush, talk, or show me their fanart, and I'm glad to have met you all. Especially Lizz, Jo, Lune & Andrea!
> 
> However, I am a cynical person, and I do often consider this an unrealistic story, but I know for a fact that that's not true. Because it is a story of love, of loving so deeply and unflinchingly nothing can sway you, and I feel that way about so many people and things. (Mainly about Lauren, because this fic is a crudely crafted love letter to her, of knowing someone so intimately the physical sense of a relationship is unheeded but so desperately craved).
> 
> So, I encourage you all to find someone who you can love so selfishly, wonderfully, and unequivocally as I do, because I would not exist without love, as Message Sent would not exist without Lauren.
> 
> My advice is to love, and live, kiddos.
> 
> [my tumblr](http://diggitydamnsebastianstan.tumblr.com/) / [lauren's tumblr](http://2012meme.tumblr.com/)


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